I Like it Heavy
by Demonatron
Summary: The first drowned herself in alcohol and was content with wasting her lonely, miserable life on art. The second was a veteran from the wrong side of a war that had destroyed an entire planet and species. The third, a quirky orphan, was just an innocent child looking for a home. Bayverse, pre-ROTF, rated M for language and innuendos/themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1  
**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

God, she hated stiffs. And tonight, anyone in a suit with a drink in their hand was a stiff. Except her. Well, if a dress counted as a suit. Did it count as a suit? Aloha scrunched her eyes as she stared at the delicate clear glass in her hand, contemplating all of the important questions of life. A dress was generally considered as formal wear, especially a red satin halter. Formal wear included suits, and here she was dressed formally with a drink in her hand-Oh god, did that mean that _she_ was a stiff?

Aloha nibbled on her lip in concern and watched the stiffs go back and forth through the pristine white archways of the lobby. These kind of illustrious parties were not her cup of tea. The general population here was men and women well into their forties to sixties. Men strutted in their best like pea cocks, dressed in suit jackets, slacks and ties. The women were sleek panthers in their jewel toned gowns and occasional pantsuit. Everyone here was all about business. One glance around the spacious room and Aloha could see more deals than she had fingers being struck.

Here she was, a fox in a wolf's den. She was twenty one and a half, in a soft red satin sleeve of a dress that was just a few inches past scandalous. Minimal jewelry-because her date for the evening had begged her to take the piercings out-and six inch pumps that were to die for. Her date loved her with big sexy hair, so she had worn it down and styled. As a bonus, it was long enough to hide the tattoo on her shoulder.

She was, without a doubt, the stranger here. Aloha and everyone else inside these walls knew it. She had been gawked and gestured at all night long, and even one or three glasses of alcohol couldn't take the edge off of her anxiety. To make things worse, her date and _host_ of the damn stiff party, had abandoned her to the storm as soon as they crossed the threshold.

As soon as she found Chandler, she was going to drop kick him.

"Aloha?" The voice was male, deep and smooth like satin. Speak of the devil.

Aloha pivoted to face her date, one of the said men in his forties. He smiled charmingly at her, his dark eyebrows lifting in amusement, "I'm happy to see you blending in with everyone, or at least trying to."

Aloha slipped into super-sexy-date-mode. She smiled back at him and lowered her eyelids. "Hello, love. Where have you been?"

He chuckled, "Mingling. Relax. You're looking a bit...stiff."

Aloha snorted and shot him a narrow look but bit her tongue. Chandler saw it and his smile bled into a wicked smirk. At forty-eight, Chandler was the owner of his own personal line of designer furniture. A broad man with a full head of jet black hair, He looked every bit the part of a well groomed business man in his expensive black suit and fancy red tie. He slid up against her side and enclosed her shoulders in one big arm.

Chandler leaned down into her ear and whispered, "You see that old man over there in the red jacket?"

Aloha shifted her attention elsewhere. She followed his direction until she spotted a much older man with silver hair. He stood with his shoulders proudly back, but he was still the shortest person on the premises.

"You mean midget Alfred Pennyworth?" Aloha glanced at her date.

Chandler rolled his eyes, "That's Samuel Tanner."

Aloha's gaze lit up with interest. She said, "That's Tanner?"

Samuel Tanner was the reason why Aloha had agreed to this ridiculous escapade. Aside from the amusement of watching the city's finest throw money and power at each other, the point of her presence here was to put herself on the map. Tanner was an art dealer that often worked directly with the curators of the Layton Museum of Modern Art. He was at every art show and event in the county, and was often the one hosting them.

Aloha was a sculptor that made things out of clay and whatever useful trash she could find while dumpster diving. She had been working in sculpting since an art teacher in junior high saw her potential and nursed it. Making art was Aloha's first and only true love. It was also the only hope she had of a future, even if she would never afford to go to an art college or buy her way into the big leagues.

That's where Tanner came in. All she needed was to talk to him, to show him the small portfolio she had tucked under her arm alongside her purse. A little word from a well known man went a long way.

"Not what you expected?" Chandler's fingers roamed over her bare shoulder. They trailed over her collar bone and left goosebumps on her skin.

"Down boy," Aloha feigned a scold. "How do I get to him?"

"You let me introduce you." Chandler settled his hand back on her shoulder. Aloha let herself be led away, even though she hated being nudged and prodded around like cattle. Chandler brought her toward the Alfred look alike, and the two of them waited patiently for the man to finish laughing with a gaggle of classy ladies.

It took several minutes before he noticed them, and even then he was reluctant to leave his audience. Finally, he shifted his attention to them. Chandler stepped forward, "Mr. Tanner."

"Ah, Chandler." The old man's eyes flicked to Aloha and anchored to her. "Who is your young friend?"

Aloha offered her hand with a shy smile, "Aloha Paige, Mr. Tanner."

"Please, dear girl. Call me Samuel. Aloha is a very unique name."

Aloha took the unspoken hint and explained, "I was conceived in Hawaii." It wasn't necessarily the reason for her name, but it was close enough.

"Interesting." He sounded like he found a lot more than her name interesting. Props for someone who didn't let their libido get as old as their body. Aloha wondered absently how many sweet young girlfriends he had lined up, their hands up waiting for money. Then again, Aloha wasn't one to talk.

The conversation, which was supposed to be one of the greatest breaks of her life, became a lot of nonsense and staring. The men talked animatedly, but said nothing with any meaning, and both of them stared at Aloha, who stared back. She stood still and bit her tongue. It took every ounce of will she had not to slap Tanner in the face with her open portfolio.

And then, like absolutely nothing had happened, the two men parted. Aloha watched, horrified, as Tanner went one way and Chandler tugged her the other. She sputtered at him, "What the hell was that?"

Chandler inhaled at her language in a public place, but said quickly, "You don't know anything, Aloha. You can't just walk up to someone like that and expect a free ride to the top. You have to work your way up, learn your target and what they like and don't like. Once you turn them into a friend, the hardest part is over."

Aloha ground her teeth in agitation. She didn't agree. Her work was good enough to at least be noticed. She'd spent nine years of her life getting to this point, and she wasn't ready to just let an opportunity slip through her fingers. Aloha turned against his arm to see where Tanner had walked off to and Chandler promptly swung her back around.

"Behave." He said.

Aloha tried her best to do just that, though her irritation simmered beneath her skin. Chandler made good work of her, parading her around like a cherished pet at show and tell. There were odd looks from a few of the people there, people that actually questioned why he was with a young girl when he was married with a bunch of rotten kids and a ranch-style home in the next state over.

Fortunate for them, they didn't say a word, then pretended not to even see Aloha for the remainder of the night. It almost made Aloha sick. It was one thing to be apart of the affair, but to watch it unfold and not do a damn thing about it was something awful. Even if they just dropped a hint like, hey, is that your daughter's friend? Or, hey, that looks a lot like your wife's new intern. Little hints that screamed: _what the hell are you doing?_

No one said a word, though. And once they got over the shock of her age, or lack thereof, a few tried to carefully integrate her into the conversation since Chandler was the host and among the most important names there. Chandler gave no signal that she should be quiet, so Aloha participated when addressed directly. She made sure to be polite and charming.

Her eyes, however, never stopped looking for Tanner, and her brain kept turning over one thought. She really, really, really hated stiffs.

The party lasted long into the night. Cars didn't arrive to pick up guests until eleven thirty in the evening, and the majority of those people didn't clear out until an hour later. There was stragglers left over, the old friends that had reunited and were not ready to break apart again.

Aloha remained at Chandler's side for the remainder of the night. By the time he was walking the very last of the old men out, sassy with drink, her feet felt broken in four different places and her eye lids weighed fifteen pounds each.

Chandler looked at her once and laughed. "You're supposed to be the youthful one! Why are you so tired?"

"Because I'm wearing heels that could take a man's eye out and I haven't sat down in hours." Aloha sighed, "are we done here?"

"In a hurry to get to bed?" Chandler smiled and his eyes went dark. His voice was thick with innuendo, and Aloha fought the urge to groan in her grief.

Aloha caught herself just in time. She flashed him her own patented dirty smile, "I'm not the only one, love."

Chandler swept her out of the room then. Through the lobby and out the doors. Aloha felt the need to point out that there was still a mess to be cleaned, because even the rich and distinguished had their limits on polite mannerisms, but clamped her mouth shut instead. She was really tired, and she just wanted to go home and sleep. The fastest way to do that was to go along with Chandler and be whatever he wanted her to be for the night.

Chandler walked her out to his most prized possession. A bright red convertible 1970 Mustang gleamed in the lot across from them. Chandler called it 'Velvet', though why _anyone_ would name a car was a mystery to Aloha. She didn't have a car, and would never need one. She didn't place any value in them besides the occasional one that had some savage lines that appealed to her artistic eye. Her indifference toward cars was one of their most common arguments. Chandler adored all of the old hot rods and classics, while they were all just old relics waiting to fall apart to Aloha.

Chandler ran a loving hand up the side of the vehicle. "I think we should go topless tonight."

Aloha stared at him, was he implying _she_ go topless? Before she could squawk at him, Chandler unlocked the car and folded down Velvet's fabric top.

Aloha slid into the passenger seat and buckled in. When Chandler just stood there and stared at her like a teenage boy, she flipped her bleach-blonde hair off her shoulder and smiled. "Aren't you going to drive me home?"

"After I finish admiring," Chandler purred, "I just realized how good you and Velvet look together. You both match. Red with," his eyes roved over her, "lovely lines."

Aloha hummed and dropped her eyelids. "Better hurry, love. It's getting cold."

Chandler hopped in and seconds later the engine rumbled to life. The ride back into the hotel was a short one, spent mostly in comfortable silence. Aloha watched the lights blur into colored streaks in the night. For a minute, she was able to breathe and just be. She didn't have to think about the night, or what was going to happen once they made it back to Chandler's hotel room. She didn't have to worry about her father, or the million other issues she had waiting for her at home. She was just there, alive and mostly whole.

The hotel room was barely above cheap. It was Chandler's idea to rent a low grade room in a low grade part of town to avoid drawing more attention to himself. Aloha had smiled and told him how smart he was. Inward she'd asked why the hotel room was the base of his concerns when he'd just paraded her in front of any and everybody with a name in the county. As usual, she kept her opinion locked up and tossed the key. Chandler didn't keep her around for her sass, or at least not _that_ sass.

Aloha lounged across the bed while he went straight for the bathroom. It didn't take her long to spot the mini-fridge crammed under the side table. A quick peek inside and her night got much better when she found it stocked with her favorite coolers and liquor. If she got started right now and worked hard at it for the next ten minutes, by the time Chandler emerged from the bathroom she'd be too drunk to remember anything that happened next.

While she was shuffling through the bottles of her favorite poison, Chandler heard the clinking of bottles and called from the bathroom, "Don't start without me!"

Aloha rolled her eyes, any hope she'd had shot to the pit. Still, she sang back, "Wouldn't dream of it."

With a scowl, she let the door swing shut and rearranged herself on the mattress. Chandler came into the room buck naked seven minutes later. Aloha wanted to face palm when he strutted in with all of his business proudly swinging around. She wondered if he was like this at home, too, or if he was only this brave with her.

Aloha watched him with sharp eyes. Why wasn't he going to the fridge? Chandler knew she didn't like to romp without even a light buzz-the mattress sank beside her and hands slid up her legs to tuck under her skirt. Aloha closed her eyes in feigned pleasure, and mentally prepared herself for the next twenty or thirty minutes.

Chandler's entire focus shifted to her and what he was doing. Aloha put herself on auto-pilot and retreated deep into the number parts of her mind. She moved in sync with him and whispered all the dirty things he wanted to hear. She met all of his needs, and when it was finally over and he lay sated against her bare side, Aloha gradually came back to herself.

Aloha disentangled herself from Chandler's arm and perched herself on the edge of the mattress. The numbness of her withdrawal followed her. It lingered in her head and in her body where she should have been satisfied. Empty and numb, Aloha had one thing on her mind.

She opened the fridge and once more delved into it for the closest, coldest bottle. She wrapped the cap in the bed sheet before she unscrewed it and drained half of its contents in one tip.

"Sometimes I think the only reason you're here is for the alcohol." Chandler said, his deep voice breaking the calm quiet.

Aloha glanced down at him. His eyes were only halfway open, but they had the focus of a predator watching his prey. Aloha tapped the cold lip of the bottle against her forehead and smiled sweetly at him, "Its a bonus, but not the reason, love."

"Then why? Eighty percent of our time together is you drinking yourself stupid."

"I thought eighty percent of our time together was you screwing me stupid?" Aloha lifted her eyebrows in a look of pure innocence. Her tactic worked, and his accusing look turned into one of heated want. In an act of pure will, she set her cooler down and ran chilled fingertips over his skin. He shivered. He clamped his arms around her and pulled her back down into his embrace for a long kiss.

Aloha then offered him her drink, which he happily took. Aloha even let him finish the bottle, but only because she had narrowly avoided a bullet that could have shattered her world. Chandler buried his face in her collar and inhaled, "Are you mine?"

"For as long as you'll have me." Aloha said quietly.

The emptiness spread a little more in her bones. She had learned how to master her own voice and actions to make him believe any thing she said. Chandler knew that there was something there for him, a beautiful rose in her heart that was his to enjoy. He was wrong.

Aloha hummed to him and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. When his body went lax with rest, she once more removed herself. Aloha managed to slide back into her dress and returned to the fridge. She took as many bottles as she could carry, hooked her pumps on two free fingers, and left. As much as she enjoyed sleeping in an unfamiliar bed with a man she had no feelings for, Aloha had things to do in the morning.

The walk home was short and uneventful. She was aware enough of her surroundings to make sure there wasn't any predators looming in the shadows. Chandler's almost-cheap hotel was under a mile from the low brick building that was her home. Aloha bypassed the front door and went straight to the garage. Squatting down, she pulled her purse out from where it was crammed in her bra strap. She unlocked it, shoved her shoulder under, and pushed it up. The metal rolled noisily and the interior was revealed to her.

Aloha felt a genuine smile on her face for the first time that night when she stepped into her room and slammed the door down behind her. She immediately dropped everything while side stepping her turn table, including her dress, and shuffled toward her futon. She put all but one of her bottles in her personal fridge.

Aloha nursed on it when she flopped down on the futon and yanked a quilt over her bare skin. She pulled her laptop to the arm rest and clicked it on to check her account. Yesterday she had sold one of her many small sculptures in an online auction, and the transaction had yet to clear when Chandler picked her up.

Relief flooded through her when saw that the money had cleared. Aloha _finally_ had enough money to hit the auction in two weeks to pick up more materials. Her last buy, a box of 'junk', had been a treasure chest of scraps she'd used for her last few pieces. Her eyes slid over to the rough shape of dancing horses on the turn table in the middle of her garage-room. Her best mixed media pieces yet, had sucked an entire month of her life, and she still didn't get to show the pictures to Tanner.

Aloha tipped her drink back.

She really hated stiffs.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Pathetic meat bags!

Barricade hissed and rumbled while he was prodded at. How many times did they need to try to open him up before they gave in? If he was fit for repairs, if he was capable of even half a transformation to tend to himself, he would have done so long ago. Jabbing their crude, prehistoric tools between the mashed plates of his paneling and trying to wrench them open was _not_ going to fix things any sooner.

His vocal processors and speakers were damaged, which made the process that much more unbearable. Not only was he crippled and unableto even run the grease monkeys down, he couldn't tell them exactly what he felt about their incessant tampering. He yelled and cursed and tried to spin his wheels. All that happened was some static that made the humans pause, and a round of clanking from his undercarriage.

Agony shot through him and he abruptly stopped before releasing a silent roar of anger. The static rose in pitch before it shorted out. The organics around him went stiff with horror before quickly withdrawing. A great cry of, "Holy shit, its possessed!" And they were scattering backwards while flinging their tools to get a hold of something more dangerous.

Well, that was certainly interesting. A lighter pain peppered the searing white hot burn in his frame, and chasing its heels was a wave of crushing exhaustion. Pits, he was tired. He would be in recharge right now if these fools hadn't decided to 'fix' him. That was the base of his frustration. He hadn't paid much attention to the human race, but he knew without a doubt that tampering with a strange car was heavily discouraged in their culture.

So _why,_ in the name of Primus and the Allspark, had they picked him-who was _in disguise_ as a _cruiser_ -up and towed him into their shop to be fixed?! He had been perfectly fine tucked away in an alley and, more importantly, hidden where he could rest in peace. Barricade had given up on the notion of ever recovering, but he was alright to recharge his way to the Well as long as no one bothered him. That meant no autobots and no humans.

He almost wished an autobot had found him and put him out of his misery.

Barricade watched the humans with dimming optics. Red symbols flashed across his sight. He was running dangerously low on energon and energy. His frame was shuddering its way into stasis, and this time he didn't bother spouting the override codes. He was close now, and he ached to be without pain. There was nothing else for him in this life. His leader was offline, the Allspark destroyed, and his faction scattered. Now it was time to rest, but not without terrifying these creatures one last time.

The grinding of his frame echoed in the walls of their structure. The humans cowered in fear. A surge of amusement distracted him for a brief reprieve. One of the humans threw up his hands in defeat, "I'm done. Just _sell_ the damn thing!"

Barricade bristled. _Sell him?_ Stupid organics. He was _not_ an object to be-

A low whine of his systems was his only warning before his vision flickered and darkness enveloped him.

* * *

 **I do not own anything but Aloha, her family, her associates and the story.  
** **'Layton', Texas is a fictional town I designed specifically for this story. This includes the museum mentioned early in the chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha scowled at the coffee maker. It was taking far too long for it to filter through, and her head was simply _pounding._ When it didn't magically fill with hot, delicious donut blend, she scrubbed a hand through her ratty bleach-blonde hair and tromped away from the counter to sit on the wicker loveseat across the cabinet. She propped her heels up on the edge of her seat and wrapped her arms around her legs, then proceeded to glare over her knees at the offending appliance.

Bare feet shuffled down the hallway. Her father appeared in the doorway, yawning while he walked through the bead curtain. He paused there. Aloha felt his attention rove over the kitchen before settling on her. He said, his voice a soft hum, "Good morning, baby."

"Good morning," Aloha returned. She drummed her finger tips against her legs.

He crossed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Like magic, it soothed the ache from her skull on contact. Aloha shut her eyes in relief. He settled on the seat beside her, nimbly crossing his legs.

"How was your date?"

"Fantastic." Aloha said without feeling.

"Did you get to meet Tanner?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

Aloha grunted when her headache returned full force. "And nothing. All he was interested in was looking at me. He talked over me at Chandler the entire time, and then he just left."

Her father leaned back. "You didn't show him your work?"

"I didn't get a chance to." Aloha glanced at her father, "you're a man."

"I thought so?" His thick black eyebrows lifted over equally dark eyes. Her father's eyes were deep and soulful, jet black, and _always_ warm. Aloha couldn't remember a day in her twenty plus years that she'd ever seen them less than happy. Once in highschool, during the one argument they'd ever had, she'd asked him if he'd just sucked all of the happiness out of her life for himself.

Her father had always been happy. Aloha didn't even know what happy was.

His skin was dark, his hair as black as his eyes. A strong jaw, strong cheek bones and a solid stature. He had given most of his Hawaiian traits to Aloha, everything but the eyes. Those were her mother's pale green, and the feature Aloha despised the most.

"Are all men egotistical, narrow minded, simplistic, prehistoric dandies that only have rutting on their mind, or is that just everyone I need to make friends with to get where I want to go?" Aloha swallowed down her need for another cooler.

"Egotistical? Narrow minded? Simplistic? Prehistoric? _Dandies?_ " Her dad laughed. "Alo, you should really rethink the sculpting thing. I think your real field should be creative writing."

Aloha shook her head violently at that. "I can't stand writing anything longer than my name. I don't know how people can waste days looking at their computer screen. How can they live like that? Like little...hermits." She shuddered.

"They probably wonder how you can waste days dumpster diving for new materials." Her father scratched at his neck. "I thought you liked Chandler. He seems like a really decent man."

"I like Chandler. He's still a dandy." Aloha rolled her eyes. Her father didn't need to know the details. He might have nightmares for the rest of his life.

"Whatever happened, have hope. You've come a long way, Alo, and you still have a ways to go."

Aloha rolled her eyes again. How many times had she heard that one? She greedily watched the coffee pot fill. "That piece sold. I'm going to the auction in a couple of weeks."

He perked. "Shopping for your next masterpiece?"

"Something like that."

He hummed and uncrossed his legs. Aloha watched him stand up to fill two mugs with coffee. She accepted one, "Whats on your agenda today?"

"Meditation for now. And then I thought I'd go for a walk before I went to the studio. Would you like to join me?"

Aloha took a sip of the steaming coffee. Her thoughts were still a frazzled mess from last night, too loud and too disorderly to function. Meditation and even a walk sounded amazing. She nodded at him, and his face lit up.

"I need to pack up the sculpture I sold and ship it out. Can we stop by the post office?"

"We can go anywhere you want." He said cheerfully. Sitting down, he leaned back and sipped on his coffee.

Aloha soaked up the quiet that followed, content to sit there with him for the rest of the day if it were possible. Instead, she finished her mug and slumped her way out of the loveseat. "I'll see you outside."

"I'll be right there."

Aloha stepped out the back door, and hissed like a vampire when early morning sunlight shined right in her eyes.

Their backyard was a sad patch of dirt and weeds, but it was the same patch of dirt and weeds Aloha had spent her childhood playing in. Aloha kicked her sandals off at the door and stepped out unto the deck. The yard was pathetically small, mostly because the covered deck extended out too far from the house.

On the deck, their backs to the house, was a couple of old couches. Aloha yanked the cushions off the closest one and tossed them down on the deck. She flopped down on one and closed her eyes. Breathing in and out, Aloha felt everything clear with focus. The irritation, the impatience, the emptiness. For a while, she could let it go. The sound of her dad sitting down nearby was the only distraction she felt the entire time she was there.

When she opened her eyes again, the sun was no longer on the horizon, but steadily making its way up the blue sky. She could think clearly again, and she felt much more awake. Aloha glanced at her dad to see that he was still meditation. She climbed to her feet as quietly as she could and retreated back into the house. She had a sculpture to pack.

The piece that sold was chaotic cluster of flowers and leaves she'd cut from any kind of scrap metal she could get her hands on. Each one was soldered or woven together after they were painted and airbrushed for fine details. The stems were secured to the bottom of an old metal coffee can she'd saved from their trash. As a whole, it was small enough for an indoor decoration, but also coated and sealed for the outdoors.

Aloha set it on her work table, across from the occupied turn table, and slid it left and right to look over it one last time for any mistakes or damage. Then she tipped it over to make sure her signature was still in tact at the bottom. It passed her inspection with flying colors.

The task then was to safely pack it without bending any of the delicate coke-can petals. Aloha kept a stash of boxes and a roll of bubble wrap underneath her work table. Her rolls of packing tape were on the shelf above it, tucked in a giant tin tool box she'd lifted from someone's trash can. Aloha dug in the tool box for her knife and flicked the blade out. She cut a stretch from the bubble wrap and discarded the knife on the shelf again with one hand while the other spread the plastic out on the table.

She retrieved the tape next then cursed and grunted when she wasted the next two minutes trying to find where the tape began. Then it was only a matter of wrapping the thing up like a delicate burrito in the plastic.

In the box it went. She made quick work of sealing the cardboard flaps together and slid it to the end of her table. All of the things she didn't need anymore went back into their respective places. All that was left was the mailing information, and then it would be ready.

Aloha shifted her attention to getting dressed and making herself presentable. She rummaged through a pile of questionably clean clothes on the other side of her garage before she located her favorite pair of jeans. A little more digging rewarded her with a clean band t-shirt. She shucked the pajamas she'd put on this morning and yanked up her jeans while hopping back toward her work table. She swept the box up, made it to the door that connected her to the rest of the house, put said box between her knees, yanked on her t-shirt, and wobbled through into the laundry room.

Aloha grabbed the box up in her arm again and strode to their living room where the only desktop and printer in the house was. She set the box in the computer chair and pulled up the email from the auction with the buyer's information. She hit the key to print and left to hunt down socks and sneakers.

Her dad walked in shortly after she put her shoes on and simply slipped on his old-man sandals since he was already wearing his signature cargo shorts and collared shirt. He watched Aloha move back and forth, yanking a back pack she'd had since junior high from the coat closet in the hall way.

"How much did you sell your sculpture for?"

"A few people wanted it so it got a little crazy." Aloha taped the shipping labels down on the box before she stuffed it in her backpack. "I think that it turned into a 'I have more money than you' fight."

"And how much money did the winner have?"

"Oh," Aloha rolled her eyes up like she was thinking really hard about it, "three hundred and twenty five, plus shipping."

He stared. "And _how_ much was the starting bid?"

Aloha grinned, "Fifty."

"That's quite a profit."

"Yeah, considering it was made out of a box of trash I picked up on someone's curb." Aloha zipped up her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. With her hands now free, she went to work taming her bleached hair into a loose braid. "Ready when you are."

Her dad motioned towards the door in an 'after you' gesture. Aloha hooked her thumbs on the straps of her pack and slid past him and out the door. She walked to the curb and waited for him to follow.

"So what are you working on now?" He stepped off the curb and into the street so he wasn't walking on the grass.

Aloha balanced on the curb and walked on her toes. "I finished the horses on Monday. I busted my buns to get those things done in time to show Tanner, and I wasn't even allowed to talk."

"You'll get your chance," He soothed.

Aloha let herself waste a second to grumble before she shook it off. "Anyway, I don't know what to do next. I love the horses, but I'm pretty sure he's already seen stuff like them before. I need to come up with something incredible to win him over. Something he's never seen before."

"Sounds like a challenge."

Aloha sighed dramatically, placing one foot in front of the other with her elbows stuck out to help stay on the curb. "I don't even know where to start."

"Alo, you see potential in everything, especially the things people have given up on and thrown away. Once you see it, you'll know."

Aloha hummed in quiet agreement. The sentiment was nice. Her dad always knew what to say and when to say it. Still, nothing he said made her feel any less doubtful. Aloha paused when she felt the sudden ache for a drink. She swallowed it down and continued on her way.

The post office was three blocks away from their house, by a donut shop where the people knew both of them by name. Her dad stood by the door quietly while Aloha handed the package to the little old lady behind the counter of the office. Aloha fingered her debit card while the lady weighed the package then click-clacked her fingers over the keys.

Aloha winced when she heard the shipping cost, but handed her card over regardless. Some more click-clacking. The package was handed off to another little old lady. Aloha watched it carefully to make sure they didn't jostle it or just toss it into the next room. She took her receipt and went on her way.

They hit the donut shop for breakfast, then rounded the corner and continued on their circuit.

"Do you think you'll find anything at the auction?" Her dad said as they crossed the street.

"If I'm lucky, I'll find something in someone else's trash so it doesn't cost me anything more than sweat." Aloha sipped on her milk. "we'll see, I guess."

He nodded.

"How are things at the studio?" Aloha offered him the bag of donut holes.

"They're alright. We're holding auditions later today for voice overs." He looked like he wanted to ask her to come for the hundredth time, but decided against it. Aloha had said no every time before. Standing in a glass box and talking all day long into a microphone was just as bad as wasting your life in front of computer screen, typing word after word after word.

"And what are you working on again?" Aloha took the bag back after he retrieved a few and stuffed her hand down in it.

"Some cartoon about giant alien robots."

She snorted. "Sounds lame."

"You should hear their names." He chuckled, "I think it'll be popular though. Kids will love it."

"Kids like anything ridiculous," Aloha said. She shuffled the donut bag back to him and looked up when a loud curse reached them from the street corner.

There was a crowd of men frantically trying to push a car out to the curb without really touching it, like the whole thing was covered in poison. They'd push a little, then spring back with their arms in front of their faces to shield themselves.

Aloha stopped to watch. She blinked when the car, which was on a slope, started to roll inch by inch down the drive. Every one of the men squealed and ran to the garage. They pushed and fought each other to get to the raised door first before throwing themselves inside like a grenade just landed in their yard. Meanwhile, the car just continued to creep down the driveway. Aloha's attention shifted from the frightened man-children to the vehicle, and she winced.

It was a sports car, from the size. But she couldn't see a model or even a make. The entire thing looked like it had seen a tank up close and personal, including the cannon _and_ the treads. Bashed and battered with both doors crushed inward toward the frame, the vehicle looked like it was black, though layers of paint had been scraped off in stretches as long as two feet on it's sides.

"What didn't they hit?" Her father said jokingly. "That ones seen better days."

"Its so...ugly." Aloha frowned at the vehicle. It hit the dip where the driveway evened out with the street and slowed. She leaned left and right to see around the shattered break lights.

"I hate to say it but I've seen teenage boys do a lot worse with a car."

Aloha didn't believe it. Just looking at this mystery-vehicle was painful. How on earth did they wreck it so horribly? Had everyone in the wreck survived? The weight of the car finally pushed it the last few feet into the street where it finally stopped.

Aloha caught a glimpse of white paint on the doors, and then some weird black patterns that might have been letters. They were all but gone though, only a few bold arches of black remained.

She tried to picture the vehicle tumbling. She could almost see the car hitting a turn way too sharp and leaving the ground to tumble away across another street. She watched it as it smashed and scraped and bounced. It turned once, twice, maybe even three times through the air before it slid to a stop. _Ouch._

The men were cautiously poking their heads back out. Ducking down close to one another, they whispered and pointed, then argued. Finally, they all turned to one of their own and shoved him out of safety and on the driveway. He immediately panicked, yelling at his friends with real fear in his voice.

Then another spotted them staring from the opposite side of the street. He leaned out from the garage but didn't leave it, and yelled, "Hey!"

Aloha's focus snapped to him. She tensed when he smiled hopefully. "You want a car? I'll give it to you for free if you take it right now!"

One of his friends pulled off his hat and slapped him with it on the arm when he said it was free. It made Aloha ten times as wary as she was before of them and their vehicle. She cleared her throat and called back, "Nah, we're good."

Then she turned to her dad and hurried him off before they could pester them any more.

* * *

 **I own Aloha, her father, their shenanigans and the story. Everything else belongs to their respective owners.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha saw the same car four times before auction day. The first two times was on the few times she ventured out with her dad on his morning walk before work. It had been parked haphazardly against the curb of the same garage, but with no squealing boys in sight. It was just as ruined and hideous as she remembered, and though she looked at it perhaps a minute longer than necessary both times, she went on her way.

The third time was while she was riding her bike on a dumpster diving raid at dawn. It was being towed by the only tow truck service in the county. She was standing at a stop light with one sneaker'ed foot on the sidewalk when she saw the truck pull a clanking, rattling, ugly mess of metal across the street ahead of her. At first, she didn't recognize it. It was just another old black car that had been totaled by a drunk driver or teenagers. But the paint on the doors was white, and she was _positive_ that the driver of the SUV following them was the boy that asked if they would take it.

Aloha blinked after it, watching it roll on down the road even after the crossing light signaled for her to go. She thought that maybe the guys that had it finally got smart and were taking it to be junked for a couple hundred bucks. She went on her way, thinking of the different fates the vehicle could be facing.

The car was completely forgotten when she found an hideous full-body mannequin in a thrift store dumpster. Her mind then focused on much more important things, like how she was going to strap the thing to her bike, and what the fire this blue gunk was on it's crotch.

The fourth time was on a date with Chandler, three days after she saw it towed. It was his weekend off, and he wanted to spend the first day of that weekend buttering her up for whatever reason. They went to see a movie, then he took her to a fast food joint where they munched on some sweet bacon double cheese burgers. Chandler animatedly talked about things at work, and how good business had been after the successful party. Aloha bobbed her head to let him know she was listening, but her eyes slid past him out of boredom and to the window behind him.

Lo and behold, there it was. It was being towed again, the opposite way. Aloha's eyes brightened when she saw it like she was seeing an old friend. She checked over the now familiar scrapes, the mangled panels, the dragging undercarriage. So, it hadn't been scrapped. Why? She squinted after it when it rattled past. Where was it going now, if not the junkyard?

Chandler noticed her lack of nods. "Aloha? You there?"

Sugar-sweet smile back in place. Aloha looked at him and canted her head to one side, "I'm sorry, love. I was just thinking about how handsome you were in a suit."

He blushed like a teenage boy. Another bullet avoided. He folded his hands on the table, "I've been thinking about you in that dress for the past two weeks. That night... God, Aloha. I can't tell if you're my angel or my greatest sin."

Aloha didn't know how to respond. Her face reddened, whether from embarrassment or attraction, she didn't care. But it was something and it made him grin. He leaned closer and muttered, "What are you doing tonight?"

Aloha bit down on the urge to squawk at him to talk louder because she couldn't understand mumble. Instead she leaned back and twirled a finger in her bleached hair. "Oh, I don't know...I thought I'd take a long _hot_ shower then lounge vulnerable on my bed with nothing o-"

Chandler's hand shot out to cover her mouth since a woman was dragging her five kids past. Aloha quirked her eyebrows at him innocently. His eyes were hot and black with lust. "vulnerable? I could come protect you."

Aloha wanted to hit her head on the table. That was the best he could come up with? She licked his hand to get him remove it, hoping to gross him out. He moved his hand but didn't even wipe it off on a napkin. She went into full flirt mode and leaned across the table toward him. She lifted her hands, keeping her arms against her body to drag the hem of her shirt up over her skin. He saw all of it, and swallowed.

"I would love it if you protected me tonight," She trailed her index finger down his lips.

Chandler scrambled to put all of their trash on the tray and jumped out of the seat to toss it. Aloha grunted at his enthusiasm and pushed herself up in a manner that said she was walking to her death.

It was a race to get to her house. Aloha entertained him with small talk that revolved around him or his company. She had him eating every word out of her hand under the guise that she really loved him and his work. Once they were in the driveway, he was on her like a hound. Aloha let them into her garage while he took time to relearn her figure. He was in a way tonight to be in such a rush, Aloha thought distractedly. It meant that he either had a fight with his wife, or was anticipating one.

She shoved up the door and the ducked under. Chandler yanked it down behind them and pivoted toward her only to freeze in place.

"What the hell is that?"

Aloha craned her neck to see what he was pointing at, and grinned stupidly when she saw that he was staring at her dumpster mannequin, who she'd named Darla. She had scrubbed Darla for four hours straight until the lithe plastic form returned to an antique white color. She now stood posed naked on the other end of her futon.

"Darla." Aloha said as if was the most obvious thing in the world.

Chandler's wide eyes slowly went to her. "You have a _mannequin?_ "

"I told you. Her name is Darla." Aloha walked over to her latest find and wrapped an arm around it's waist. "Darla's my home girl."

"Are you...have you been drinking again?"

She burped. "No."

Chandler huffed. "Aloha-"

Aloha rolled her eyes and dropped her arm from the mannequin. "That was the soda I just finished off. I knew we were going out today, so I haven't even touched the fridge."

"Then whats with that thing? Its creepy as hell."

"Shes for my next project." Aloha kicked off her shoes and stepped back from the mannequin so she could pull her shirt off without bumping it. "I don't know what I'm using her for yet but I'll figure it out."

Chandler started to undress himself, though his eyes stayed riveted on the mannequin. "I just...I can't do this with it watching."

Aloha shrugged and turned the head backwards so all he saw was the back of the wig over her perky breasts. Chandler groaned, "God, thats worse! Fix it! _Fix it!_ "

Aloha cackled and spun it back around the right way. She tossed her shirt over it and Chandler let out a sigh of relief. Still thoroughly irritated, he said, "Do you ever wonder sometimes why you don't have friends?"

And just like that, any amusement she'd felt from the exchange was zapped. Aloha went very still for a breath as the words sank through her skin to settle in her bones. Her soul wrenched with painful knowing because alcohol had been her best friend for several years now.

Aloha shook herself out of her pity party and smiled at him, "I don't need anyone as long as I have you, love."

"Damn right you don't." He stripped and all but tackled her to the floor. Aloha immediately went into auto pilot, and the rest of their evening became a numb blur of color.

The following morning, she woke up alone on the concrete floor. Her body was used, cold and stiff. It took several minutes of tentative stretching just to sit up, then more to stand. Her joints popped, the sounds echoing in her empty bones. Aloha refused to think about the night before and dug up suitable clothing before she hit the shower.

Today was auction day.

Aloha tightened down the milk crate on her bike rack and packed her biggest back pack with bungee cord and rope in case she brought something big home. She walked her bike to the curb where she met her dad, who was just leaving for work. He called out to her cheerfully and wished her luck. Aloha echoed his sentiments and hopped on her bike. Her only stop was at a gas station so she could hit the ATM for some cash, then she was off.

Aloha was the only person her age at the auction house. The house itself was a huge metal building that used to be someone's barn in Layton's early days. Plywood walls had been thrown up to divide the building into four rooms. Each room had different items and a different audience. There was a space for vehicles, a space for small buildings and furniture, a place for tools and appliances and a 'junk room', where men who just cleaned out their garage came to auctioned things off in huge loads. Layton, as big as it was, wasn't large enough to have an auction house for homes or property. Each room held an auction at a different time, and the whole thing was run by a bunch of rednecks and old people.

Aloha locked her bike to a flag pole outside the building. She paid the eight dollar entry fee and wandered to the junk room first. If they weren't discovered in a dumpster or on a curb, ninety percent of her materials came from here. She was early, so she wandered away from the chairs and toward the tables behind the podium that held the items they'd be bidding on.

Aloha hooked her hands on the straps of her backpack and shuffled back and forth. She squinted at the items. There was a wide range of items from a military trunk full of bike parts to a crate packed with old computer monitors. Aloha peered into each container to get a look at their contents. The computer monitors were interesting, though she had no idea what she'd use them for.

Aloha frowned. Nothing. There was nothing here for her.

And then someone set down a wooden box in the last empty space on the tables, and opened it. Thick slabs of metal, in varying colors and sizes, were laid out biggest to smallest inside. Aloha eyed the box and felt magnetized to it. She was leaning over before the guy who set it there could step back. Being no stranger to the assortment of metals used for every day objects and tools, Aloha tried to identify what kind these were.

Her fingers twitched to touch, but she refrained. The first slice of metal was colored yellow. The color looked painted on, but there wasn't any flecks or bubbles in it from stress, and the edges of the metal were very, very stressed. They'd been ripped off of whatever they were attached to. Aloha looked at the second. Silver. Then the third, a gnarled twist of black, getting smaller and smaller until her eyes settled on the tiniest sliver of bronzed metal.

She looked up at the person, "What are these?"

He was a younger guy, maybe eighteen years old. Scratching at his head, he said, "The dude who brought them in said that they're from the fight in Mission City."

"A what?"

He squinted at her. "Haven't you seen the news, lady? There was a war in Mission city last year. It was huge. They had jets and all kinds of stuff come in. Explosions, military. Boom. All over the place."

"I wouldn't know anything about it. Don't have a tv."

"A what?" He stared hard at her. "you don't have a tv?"

"We don't need one."

"Are you even human?"

Aloha rolled her eyes at him. It was the same reaction Chandler had when she told him. "That doesn't tell me what its from."

"They're saying that they brought out the big guns. Some crazy military grade experimental tech. He said that these are pieces of the tech."

That didn't tell her anything except that the two of them were nerds that wore foil hats behind closed doors. She pointed at the yellow piece, "Do you know what its made of?"

He shrugged. "Steel? Aluminum?"

Neither. Aloha huffed at his ignorance. "And he thinks these will sell here? He'd be better off dropping them in a junkyard."

"This is serious stuff, lady. You can't just chunk it in a junkyard."

"What is he going to do if no one bids on it?"

"Take it somewhere where its appreciated."

Aloha went back to holding her pack's straps. She stared hard at the case and chewed on her lip. There wasn't enough to do much with here, but the mystery metal had her attention. If the ridiculous story behind the pieces was real, it could add to the appeal of whatever she made. People were suckers for a handmade piece with a history.

She wanted that case. Aloha squinted at the guy again before she pivoted and made her way back to the chairs. She wasn't going to pay over a hundred for them, but she would hang around to see how it would go.

Aloha sat down and waited for the auction to start. People started to filter in, locals and travelers. The auctioneer climbed up to the podium and motioned towards the first item that was set on the table beside him, where everyone could see it. The man fired off with the first bidding of the day.

Two women in the room broke out into an all out war over the trunk full of bike parts. Aloha blinked as the hands shot up, one right after the other. The auctioneer fought to keep up with them. In the end, it was the portly woman in a violet sundress that won it at three fifty. Aloha couldn't tell if the fuss was over the trunk or the actual bike parts.

Aloha sat through the entire thing. She allowed her mind to wander and the noise of the auctioneer to turn into a low drone in her ears. She watched the boxes appear and disappear. One after another, until the case with the mystery metals were set carefully on the table. Aloha remained still, holding her uninterested slump. Her eyes sharpened with focus.

The auctioneer paid brief detail to the history of the metals, then he rattled off the starting bid. One fifty. Aloha ground her teeth. She kept her eyes on him, though she was very aware of the people around her whenever they shifted. When he didn't get a bite, to Aloha's relief, he dropped the bid by fifty. Still, no one jumped on it. He went down twenty. Aloha's fingers twitched in her lap. Twenty more. She finally raised her hand.

The auctioneer pointed at her and tried to coax the bid up more. Aloha leaned back calmly, keeping her eyes on the auctioneer. A few heads turned as people whispered. They were all as skeptical as she was to the metal's origins, and there just wasn't enough in the box to be of value to anyone. The seconds passed and no more hands were raised.

"Sold!"

Aloha gusted out a sigh of relief. The buyers were directed back to the room with the items to pay up and collect. Aloha passed over sixty bucks and got a hold of her case. The case was too big to stuff in her back pack, so she carried it outside to the tiny wooden building that was the bathroom, and jacked a whole roll of paper towels while no one was looking. Aloha swathed each plate of metal, eight in all, and tucked them into her back pack. She strapped the case down to her bike and knotted the crap out of it to keep people from toting it off.

Aloha adjusted her backpack and turned on one toe to check out the other rooms. She froze in place when the sound of men arguing rose above the general mumble of talking people. Pivoting, she looked at the source.

A group of distraught looking boys were standing together, their leader with his hands in his hair while he took the brunt of an older guys lecture. Aloha tilted her head to one side when the one yelling gestured wildly across the dirt parking lot. She followed his hand and froze when they landed on the black wrecked sports car.

Five times in two weeks. Aloha stared hard at the vehicle, convinced it was her new shadow. She turned completely toward it and, pulled by the familiarity of it, approached. It was twenty paces away, parked by but away from the other auction cars. Aloha stopped at the driver's door. Up close it was ten times as ugly. The scrapes had painfully deep gouges at the center. One of the side mirrors was missing. The windows were just shy of being completely shattered.

All of these things she knew about. Aloha bent to look at the roof. It was caved at the center, but where the paint should have been flecked, where the bumper should have been completely obliterated...She frowned. It didn't look right. She placed her fingers on the roof and traced them over the ripples and scrapes. The metal felt wrong. It was too cold to have been sitting under the hot sun all morning. It was also too textured in the smooth places, almost like a flat grid was laid upon it.

"Hey!"

Aloha jumped and spun around. The men were looking at her, the one that had been on the bad end of an argument was staring at her especially hard. He quirked his eyebrows at her. "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."

Aloha smoothed her thumb over the metal one more time before she retracted her hand. She watched as the older man grunted and said with finality, "You are _not_ dragging that piece of crap into the auction. Take it to the damn junkyard."

"Don't you think we've tried that already?!" One of the others shouted, "they turned around and had it towed right back."

"Son, if a _junkyard_ won't take it, there ain't nobody that will take it." He paused, "and why wouldn't they take it?"

"Hell if I know." They went back to scratching their heads and talking.

Aloha looked at the car, then at the boys, then back at the car. She smoothed her hand over the hood. The texture tickled her palm and made goosebumps rise on her arm. "Just can't stay away from me, can you?" She muttered while she walked away from it. Looking up at the men again, she cleared her throat. "How much?"

Every single one of them went stiff. "You...You want it?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't."

One of the boys pushed to the front of the group. "How much you got?"

"I've got a hundred and seventy five on me right now." Aloha said, prepared to argue.

"Right now. Like in cash."

Aloha nodded slowly. "Yes. Thats what I said."

They looked at each other. One of them threw up his hands, "At least shes willing to pay for it. We've already lost so much money on this stupid thing."

"How is she going to get it home?"

"Tow it."

"Well if shes only got one seventy five, how is she going to pay for a tow truck?"

"Let her figure it out."

"No, I want that demon possessed nightmare _gone._ If she wants to take it, I will hook that thing to the Dodge and drag it to her house myself."

Aloha rolled her eyes. "You probably don't remember me, but you offered to give it to me free two weeks ago. If you can't take it to the junkyard, and if they won't let you put it in an auction, what are you going to do with it? Keep it in your garage? Keep paying towing bills to moving it around to places that don't want it?"

"And what are you going to do with it?"

"I have a few ideas." She didn't really, but she wasn't going to ignore the coincidence of seeing the stupid thing so many times in less than a month. They shook their heads at her.

Aloha walked around to the front of the car and leaned leaned against the hood. She watched them blab and glanced at her phone to check the time. The oldest one had hurried off back to the auction house, leaving herself and the original group of grease monkeys. They huddled in close together.

Finally, the sensible one shouted, "Alright, sold!"

For less than two hundred bucks. She didn't think they'd bite for anything less than four. The idiots must have been desperate to get rid of it. Aloha smiled sweetly at them, "You still offering to take it home for me?"

"Yes!"

Aloha pushed away from the wreck and met him half way. She dug down into her pocket to fish out the right amount. Once it was in his hand, the others gave a whoop. She said, "Now that thats over with, mind telling me why the junkers had it towed back?"

He went rigid with panic, eyes wide. "You already paid me."

"I'm not expecting a refund, either." Aloha promised.

He relaxed. "It, uh, broke their equipment."

"What?"

"It broke his equipment. The thing weighs a ton. It burned out all of his trucks, lifts, everything. It won't magnetize, either, so he couldn't move it with the lift magnet."

"It won't magnetize? Its made of metal. And if its that heavy how do you know you can pull it?"

"Its, uh, a special case." He nodded toward her bike. "Thats yours, right? If you're close enough to ride your bike here, my old dodge can handle pulling that far. All of his machines were lifting it straight up. Takes less to pull it on it's wheels."

Aloha smirked at him. "Watched me come in, huh?"

He flushed. "N-no. You were just familiar, you know? I was trying to see who you were."

"Uh-huh. You boys let me know when you're ready to go." Aloha turned back to the monstrous wreck. She slid her hand over the ruined hood, her fingernails over the cracked glass, and she wondered what on earth she was getting herself into.

* * *

 **I've never been to an auction, but I did some on-the-fly research and kind of adjusted it to fit a less profitable town.**

 **Aloha, her dad, Chandler and the story belongs to me.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha slid her bike up against the side of her house. She hopped off and turned to face the boys as they worked together to push the wreck up her drive way. Unlocking her garage door, Aloha shoved it all the way up and darted inside to push some things over to the right side of the drive way. The turn table scraped across the floor while she leaned into it, almost staggering under the resistance. Next time she got money, she was buying wheels for the stupid thing.

The head of the grease monkeys trotted inside to help her after he threw some bricks behind the wreck's tires. He blinked at her, "You live in here?"

Aloha grimaced, "I needed separation."

"Living with your parents?"

"Hm," Aloha dusted her hands on her jeans when they finished clearing a space just big enough for the vehicle to squeeze in through. "So what paperwork do I need to sign for this ugly thing?"

"Technically," He said slowly, "there isn't any."

Aloha squinted at him, immediately suspicious. "This car just didn't crash land in your garage, did it?"

"No...we actually found it in an alley half a mile from the square," He walked back out with her to inspect the topic of their conversation. He went rigid in her peripheral view when she touched the hood again.

"You _found_ it."

"We called the station because its painted like a cruiser, but they didn't have any records of the car. Then we tried to look up its license plate. There's no records of it, either. There's no title, there's no numbers. This thing literally belongs to no one."

Aloha raised her eyebrows at him. "Then how can you just sell it?"

"The same way you just bought it." He shrugged, "finders, keepers."

The information made the hair on her neck stand up. This all sounded too good to be true, and more importantly, like a one way trip into trouble. Aloha may be an alcoholic that used gullible men to get from one place to another, but her fight or flight instincts were never wrong. Her gut was screaming at her that thiswasn't right _._

She jumped out of the way when the boys kicked out the bricks, lined up against the vehicle's butt, and rolled it into the garage.

Aloha slid the bricks back behind the tires with her foot as a precaution. Then she took off her back pack and dropped it on the hood of the car, _thunk_. Every single one of the boys fled all the way to the curb in a cursing rush of man-child. She snorted at them. "You act like its going to attack you."

"Remember when I said it was special? It, uh, doesn't like to be touched."

Aloha stared. "Its a _car._ "

He shook his head violently, "It _doesn't_ like to be _touched_."

She swung her foot back and kicked the bumper of the vehicle hard enough to make a resounding clank. They squealed and scrambled for the Dodge. Aloha waved as the truck started with a roar and peeled down the road, dragging tow chains behind it. She rolled her eyes and stepped inside her garage, squeezed in against the butt of the wreck, and brought the door down hard in front of her. She kicked the lock down and sidled her way out.

Aloha stepped on her shoes to pull them off and padded across her garage to her fridge. She said, "So what do you think, Darla? What can we do with this hideous thing?"

The mannequin continued to stare at nothing, her poker face impenetrable. Aloha nodded her head along as she withdrew a couple of bottles from the frigid interior. She pushed the door closed with her toes and dropped herself over the back of the futon unto the worn cushions.

She uncapped the first, dropping the first between her back and the cushions. Aloha examined the new addition to her room with a curious eye while she sucked down her first beer of the day. "What to do, what to do, what to do..."

It was really the ugliest, most pitiful piece of work she'd ever seen. Aloha canted her head one way, then the other, and when that didn't help her think of anything she rolled to her back and let her head hang over the seat to view it upside down. All she saw there was how loose the undercarriage was.

"I know, I know, Darla." She took a long drink, "I just wasted my money, didn't I? Maybe I should stick to dumpster diving. More profitable that way."

The mannequin held her perky model pose but didn't say a word. Aloha sighed dramatically, closing her eyes as the alcohol warmed her up. She pushed herself up and stretched out on her stomach with her chin on the arm rest of the futon. She gave the mannequin her best lost puppy eyes. "You're not being very helpful. The least you can do is give me an idea, especially after everything I've done for you."

 _I'm talking to a mannequin._ Aloha rumbled at the unwelcome logic in her mind, and it quickly tucked it's tail and fled. Another swallow of bitter drink. She looked at the car again, hoping it could tell her what it wanted her to do with it's corpse. Her eyes trailed over the ragged lines of it's crushed hood-

Aloha sat up. Her eyes narrowed with focus, following the ruin of the vehicle's front end. There it was, something she could actually work with. She slapped around on the concrete floor for the sketch book tucked under the futon. Finding it, she pulled the pen from the spiral and flipped to a page with enough room to sketch, and scribbled away.

If she could just find a way to tilt the vehicle up, prop it up on a stand like one of her smaller sculptures. If she could just cut into that hood, pull the torn edges up. If she could fill the would-be cavity there under the would-be open hood with art, with beauty...Beauty in ruin. The good in the bad. Potential in broken things. That was what she did, what she was good at.

Aloha only stopped to take a sip every now and then, trying to get the basics of what she wanted down. Once she had roughed in the piece, she asked Darla to bring her the markers on the table. Belatedly, she remembered that Darla was a mannequin and that she was drinking. Aloha groaned and forced herself up and sat down at her work table.

She sucked down two more coolers before she had finished, then, realizing that her project would require her to get some kind of saw out and that you weren't supposed to operate machinery while drunk, stripped off her clothes and spread out on her futon for a nap.

The ugly nightmare was still there when she woke later, less than an hour from sunset. Aloha blinked at it for several minutes before she became aware enough to remember that she now owned a wreck. "Coffee first," She mumbled at Darla while she climbed out of bed and dragged her clothes from earlier on. "I need coffee, then we'll cut that bad boy open."

Her father was in the kitchen. He turned to look at her, "Alo? How long have you been home?"

"Coffee," Aloha said, "I've been home coffee."

He raised his eyebrows at her in amusement and stepped out of her way. Aloha fished out the biggest mug she could find and waited impatiently for the pot to fill.

Her dad tried again. "Did you find anything at the auction?"

"Some scraps." Aloha croaked, "I'm going to start working with them. Requires power tools. It'll be loud for a while."

"What are you working on?"

"Big sculpture."

"Thats enlightening."

"Don't sass me. I need coffee." Aloha filled her mug and returned to the garage. She reviewed her sketches, corrected them in a few places, and woke herself up. The first order of business was to get that hood open and see if there was still an engine inside, and if there was, figure out how the fondue she was going to get it out.

Aloha had a pitiful power saw she used for larger projects, like cutting the slabs down for the horse sculpture that still stood in a frozen gallop on the turn table. It was the only thing she had, besides a sledge hammer, that could bust up metal paneling. She set both on her work table beside the sketch, then looked for a long sleeved shirt, gloves and her safety glasses. The first two were easy to find, but the glasses were illusive. She settled for a pair of ski goggles she'd saved from the streets.

Aloha pushed all of her sculptures further away and covered them with towels. She shoved her lap top under the futon cushions to keep it from getting damaged. Then she plugged the saw in and carried it to the wreck. Her backpack was still slumped on the hood, so she pushed it off with an elbow where it fell to the floor. Aloha yanked her goggles down and flipped the safety switch. She squeezed the trigger, and the saw blade screamed to life.

She brought the blade down slowly, bracing herself for resistance. The blade inched down until it made contact. Three yellow sparks flew, and the saw jerked in her hands with enough force to dislocate her arms.

The machine went one way, the saw squealed in agony and disconnected to fly the other. Aloha hit the floor with a scream and covered her head while the white hot blade sang through the air, sliced Darla in half at the waist, and buried itself in the wall across the garage. The blade-less saw smacked on the hood, bounced, and rolled across the concrete.

Aloha trembled, pressed against the bumper of the wreck. "What the fu-" She uncovered her head after several seconds, the only sound being the sizzling saw burning the material around it black. She peeked with eyes wide as dinner plates at the damage. Darla's legs, miraculously, were still standing. There was a clean cut across her waist that still smoked.

Once she was able to accept the room was clear of singing blades, Aloha shakily rose up. She pivoted to look at the hood. Not even a scratch, or at least not one that wasn't already there. That gut wrenching feeling of _somethings weird here_ crashed through her full force and she found herself back pedaling away from the wreck. Her butt hit the futon and she sat stiff beside her mannequin's long legs.

How was the car not damaged? How had her _room_ taken more damage than the car? She brought a hand to her lip and chewed on her nails. The goggles fogged over and her skin became sticky with sweat. She yanked them up to her hair line and wiped a palm over her eyes. Maybe she was still drunk? Maybe she needed more coffee, or maybe she drank too much and was high on the caffeine? Maybe the car was made of some type of alien stone that _wasn't_ green, or maybe her saw was more pitiful than she thought?

Aloha reached down to the cord on the floor and yanked the plug free from the outlet. Things were getting weird, her mannequin had instantly lost half of her body weight and now Aloha really needed a drink. She chewed on one set of nails while the other hand tapped against her knee.

After several minutes of panicking, Aloha finally got to her feet and tip toed to the saw blade in the wall. It had sank almost completely in, the serrated edge peeking out by barely an inch. Aloha could feel the heat from the blade on her face when she bent to look at it closer. Then she went to the machine and found it helplessly broken.

Aloha swallowed noisily, the heat of anger slowly overpowering her shock. That saw had cost her more money than what it was worth, was the only tool of it's caliber she had, and a stupid _wreck_ had broken it. She ground her teeth and glared at the car. She shouldn't have wasted the money on it, shouldn't have even chanced it. Aloha picked up the broken saw and dropped it on her table. She rubbed the fogginess from her goggles and pulled them back down over her eyes.

She took the sledge hammer. It weighed a ton in her skinny arms, but she braced it against her shoulder and strode toward the vehicle. Jumping on her toes, she swept the hammer down with all of the force she could muster. Metal made contact with metal. _BAM._

Aloha landed hard on her back. Agony exploded in her stomach. Her lungs shrank in her chest and her heart pounded through every bone in her body. She gasped and hiccuped and wheezed. She couldn't see anything for a long time, or even think. When she could, the first thing she saw was red, and the first thought to enter her mind was, _I'm dying._

The redness faded to a tint. Aloha found herself staring at the ceiling, and through the pain she felt something heavy right over the pulsing heart of her pain. She pushed herself on her elbows and looked down through her tears.

It was the metal head of the hammer, with less than an inch of the wooden handle still attached to it.

"Are you _freaking_ serious?!" Aloha shouted. Her voice came out a hoarse screech. She glanced to her right and saw what remained of the splintered handle on the floor, almost exactly where the saw had laid.

Groaning, Aloha let herself fall back. "you ugly _nightmare!_ No wonder they were in such a freaking hurry to get rid of you! I'll kill you in your sleep! I'll slash your tires! I'll get stupid drunk and puke all over your seats! I'll leave you at the curve and let creepy homeless people crawl into your seats and make it their home!"

It was excruciating to talk, so she snapped her mouth shut and rolled to her side. The hammer head clunked against the concrete against her waist while she curled in on herself to cry quietly. In a ditch effort of rebellion, she blindly kicked a foot out toward the car and hit her back pack instead. The pieces of metal slid out noisily across the floor. She kicked again, her pants leg dragging the shards of metal, and finally connected with the stupid tire.

The entire vehicle lit with arcs of blue electricity and Aloha screamed like a banshee before she scrambled to her feet and limped to the door and threw it open. "Its _possessed!_ "

Her scream echoed through the house and her dad's footsteps pounded down the hallway. "Alo?! Aloha! What is it?!"

"I'm burning the house down! Women and children out first!"

" _Aloha Paige!_ "

* * *

 ** _Poor_ Darla. **

**Aloha, her dad, Darla and the story belongs to me. Rest goes to their respective owners.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha peeled the threadbare cami up by the hem, wincing before the massive bruise was even revealed. She kept her breaths shallow and slow. The hammer had screwed a lot of things up in her gut, but a late night trip to Urgent Care and two expensive X-rays told her that there was nothing to worry about internally. She'd promptly asked them then if they could see internal bleeding in an X-ray, or if they needed to strip her down to a gown-yuck- and run her through one of the bigger machines.

Their answer had been, 'stop being paranoid'. Aloha frowned at herself in the mirror. She knew she wasn't paranoid, but having an ugly, useless wreck destroy two of her most expensive tools then 'come to life' with electricity was enough to push anyone over the edge. It had been almost twenty four hours, and she still hadn't gotten up the guts to go back to the garage.

Obviously, the grease monkeys had been in a desperate rush to get rid of the wreck for a reason, and Aloha felt like she'd just discovered it. Aside being impossible to scratch, the stupid thing had a glitch in it or something. The only answer she could think of was something in the battery. Also, she couldn't face Darla. Not after what happened to her. Poor Darla. Aloha would have to pick up some more duct tape next time she was out and about.

Aloha let her shirt down when she couldn't stand looking at the grotesque mark spanning across her stomach. She gagged at her reflection and went to work taming her ratty hair.

Chandler was coming over soon. With him was the only silver lining of this entire ordeal. Even he wasn't horny enough to come on to her while she was injured. Which was good, considering that part of their relationship in particular was her least favorite. After explaining in loose detail what had happened-without mentioning she even got the stupid car-Chandler had promised that it would just be a movie then dinner. Again.

Hair pulled back in a cute braid, Aloha went to work putting on her war paint. A softer tone for her lips since they weren't anticipating any bed play. Shades of a natural brown for her eyes. The piercings went in, clear acrylic studs in her nose, lip and eyebrow. Chandler was never a fan of them, so she'd compromise tonight. Once that business was done she slipped on a summer dress and her most comfortable set of flats.

She stepped into the hall way and made her way into the living room where her dad was surfing on the desktop computer. He turned to look at her, "Alo, are you sure its safe for you to go out tonight? Shouldn't you take it easy for a few days until you feel better?"

"It'll take me ten minutes to get up and out of a chair," Aloha shrugged, "but I'll survive. Had worse."

"Okay, then." His expression told her it was most definitely not okay. Aloha waited for him to say something, to actually take his role as a parent seriously and tell her no for once. He didn't.

Aloha grabbed her purse and went outside to wait for Chandler in the front yard. It wasn't dark yet, but she could see the pearl crescent in the sky. Aloha smiled at the moon, then waved at the fading sun in the west.

Something banged to her left. Aloha went rigid. To her left was her garage. She stood up on her toes and argued with herself about whether to go check on things or to pretend she didn't hear anything. She was perfectly fine ignoring it until she realized that the most logical reason for there to be commotion in her garage was a burglar, not some piece of crud wreck that may or may not be possessed.

Steeling herself, Aloha pivoted and tip-toed to her garage. She squatted down and shoved the door up into the roof in one motion. she realized that she probably needed a weapon a second after. She really needed to start thinking things through before she did them. Her pale eyes scanned the interior, but not a thing was out of place.

The wreck sat innocently where she'd left it, or so she thought. Something was off about it-hadn't it been closer to the wall of the garage? Aloha stared hard at the vehicle like it would suddenly adopt a scholarly accent and tell her all the secrets of the world. Darla, however, was still split in half, her posed legs standing upright against the arm of her futon. The saw blade was still in the wall, and there was still chunks of sledge hammer on the floor around the car. All of it was exactly how she'd left it.

Aloha gave the wreck a suspicious squint. "You better behave yourself."

The car didn't answer. Aloha trotted inside and grabbed Darla's top half from behind the futon. She set her up on the futon and pivoted her so the mannequin was looking directly at the car. Pointing at it, Aloha said, "You keep an eye on that thing, okay? I want a full report on any activity or lack thereof when I get home."

She stood for a second, pretending to hear the mannequin cheekily reply that she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of the car for a second, then nodded approvingly before she went back outside, patting Darla's legs as she went. The garage door slid down and audibly locked just as Chandler rolled up in Velvet. He smiled charmingly at her, "Hows my little disaster doing?"

Right, time to put on the act.

"Doing like shes starving," Aloha slid into the leather seat and leaned over to kiss his cheek, "How was work?"

His smile brightened, "It went well. We had a conference today with a new partner. Theres a lot of new opportunities in our future." Chandler slid her braid through his fingers, "The 'innocent' look works for you."

She held his eyes, smiling slowly at him in a way she knew would get his blood hot. "Does it? Maybe I should dress like your little innocent school girl more often."

He made a sound in her throat before leaning for her. His arm pressed against her bruised abdomen in she was too late to stop the sharp inhale. Chandler pulled back with a startled expression, eyebrows raised. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

"It's okay, love." Aloha managed a perfect smile through the pain, "you can make it up to me by spoiling me tonight."

His error forgotten, Chandler went back to smiling like he was the richest man on earth. He put the car into reverse and then they were on their way.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

System errors. System errors everywhere.

Barricade sat in exhausted silence as he filed through them. Self-repair routines were already hard at work, had been for several earth hours now, while he had drifted in and out of recharge. The errors and updates to said errors had completely filled his processor and his vision. With nothing better to do at the time, he read them. Or tried to. When he couldn't, he tried to turn his attention outward to his current location.

He was...inside another human structure. A garage. His spark tightened with rage and remembrance when he first realized this, the memory of the human males prying at his war-battered self in their pathetic attempt to 'fix' him. Had they somehow managed to revive him? No. This space both smelled and looked different. It didn't stink of grease and meat-bag sweat. Instead, there was an almost overwhelming scent of female, intermingled with various materials, such as ink or paints. Meat bag colognes, perfumes. An underlying edge of alcohol.

Looking around, he found a much cleaner space than what he had expected. And it was furnished, complete with seat-bed, various tables and a humming human appliance in the corner. Human coverings-clothes-scattered across every available surface.

Clearly not the same hole he'd offlined in.

Barricade rationed a precious amount of energy into scanning the room and the larger building it was attached to. There was only one life form present in the building- young adult, female and human. There was evidence of another residing in the structure, though it was absent, and possibly a third though it's residue was left mainly in the garage. More meatbags. How was it that no matter where he found himself, they were there? If this one dared to touch him, he'd smash it. He might smash it regardless.

Noting that he wasn't in immediate danger of contact or assault, Barricade shifted his attention elsewhere. Against the warnings issued by his repair routines, Barricade attempted to move. His body was unresponsive the first several tries until he focused all of his attention on it. Grudgingly, his body lurched forward, rested, then rolled backward-over bricks that had been placed behind him- until his aft end hit the garage door and rattled it. Back forward, then gingerly toward the center of the space allotted to him where he abruptly stilled when the garage door was suddenly shoved upward.

The source of the female scent peered inside, the weight of her gaze falling upon him. Several seconds passed, her puny, slimy organic optics focused solely on him as if he'd already tried to smash her.

"You better behave yourself."

Barricade's processor blanked at her words. She had spoken to directly to him. Was it possible that she knew? Had she alerted the autobots? In the shape he was in, he was as good as offline. Again.

The female strode into the space and moved past him, leaving the garage door wide open. Barricade's attention snapped toward it. He could throw himself into reverse and get the frag out of there and find a safe place to hide until his repairs were complete, _away_ from prying meatbags-

The female made some noise, drawing his attention back to her. She had placed the top half of something that suspiciously resembled another female meat bag that had been cut in two on the seat-bed. Barricade stared hard at this, thought processes glitching as she arranged it just so. Was...had this been another meatbag that she had killed? For dominance? For territory? For a mate? Out of anger? He had scanned the entire garage, attached housing unit included, but could only sense that one female was or had been on site recently. Did she perhaps kill it and drain it elsewhere, then cut the body to condense the size and drag it to it's den for a trophy? It couldn't be too impossible of a notion. He'd known decepticons that had done similar things.

He scanned the the part of the corpse the female placed on the couch-how could she so easily lift it?-and became even more stumped when scans concluded that it was synthetic. He stared at it as the female issued orders as if it was a sentient being, and caught himself scanning it yet again in case he missed something. If it was synthetic or had no life signature, why would she waste time issuing orders that wouldn't be followed? This meat bag. This human...it was glitched in the processors. It had to be.

The human surveyed her handiwork, nodded, patted the bottom half of the synthetic human, and walked back out. The garage door closed and locked behind him as he was scanning the 'legs', now confused as to why it had been cut in half. He had only been aware for less than a day and his processor already hurt much more than his frame did.

Meat bags for the oddest slagging creatures he'd ever seen.

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha stumbled into her room late that night, completely wiped out after sitting through a movie/unwanted makeout session with Chandler. He may have been her senior by several years, but he still acted like a horny teenager when given the chance. Silently, she was grateful that her body was bruised. She honestly didn't know if she could survive a full romp in the sheets tonight. Definitely couldn't do it sober, as Chandler seemed intent on doing lately.

Briefly forgetting that the wreck was possessed, she patted the ugly vehicle on her way past and offered a groggy but sincere "thank you" before she stripped down to her skin and went to her fridge, tracking through her clothes as she went. Aloha opened it and peered inside at her stash, warring between the siren call and her own common sense. She argued with it for several minutes before closing it with more force than necessary.

She was taking some heavy medications for her injury and she wasn't ready to go back to the hospital if she drowned herself when she medically shouldn't. Aloha settled for groaning like an angry caveman, opened the door again, shut it, opened it again, shut it, opened it, shut it, then yanked the sheet off of her futon, throwing Darla to the floor in the process, and wrapped herself in it before falling on the cushions.

Aloha stared at the wreck, blinking slowly when she noticed an almost-sheen to one spot on the ruined panels on it's body. Weird. She considered it with sharp eyes, noticing a few other things that weren't quite as they remembered. Things that were minuscule, things that wouldn't be seen if you weren't specifically looking for them.

Curiosity and boredom told her to check it out. Fear and the pain gained from her last experience messing with it told her to run away screaming. The conflict ate at her. Several minutes later, Aloha sighed and sat up. After burrito-ing herself up in the sheet, she stood up and approached the car slowly.

"Be nice," She ordered it. The wreck stayed still and silent, either possessed but obedient or a sign that she needed to be in a straight jacket. Aloha freed an arm and gently laid her hand over the shinier spot. It was still coated in dust and grime, but somehow it shone through it. Bizarre.

Aloha pet her hand down the panel, wiping a wide stripe clean. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she took her hand away and looked down at the coat of dirt on her palm. She placed it back on the vehicle, repeating the motion. Even on the flat, unblemished places, her skin was tickled by texture. The grid she'd noticed at the auction yard, almost like a not-quite-flat honeycomb that was spread out over the paint. Just barely noticeable. But there was something very different about it, besides the 'healthy' spot. Something...something that felt important. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

Her fingers trailed further, feather light over a mangled door panel to the handle. She slipped her fingertips under and hesitated. Its just a car, she told herself, an ugly one. So she pulled on it.

The door remained locked.

Aloha made a face at it, "Someones hardheaded."

She pulled her arm back into the cocoon of her sheet and shuffled to her futon. Collapsing with her back toward the car, she mulled over her discoveries until she crashed, still trying to name what it was that she had missed.

She dreamed that night that she woke up inside her room, turned towards the center instead of the back of her futon. Her eyes had opened, clear of sleep, and she had stared across the floor at the vehicle. Understanding filled her, even though she didn't know why. The wreck was eerily quiet, a shattered relic of some terrible tragedy. She spoke to it, words she felt leave her mouth but couldn't hear. And she waited for a response. It sat still, watching her with the same cautious interest.

Then a lock clicked and the door swung open.

* * *

 **I'm not dead. Yet. Two years since last update(2015)? Wow. I'm sorry for neglecting my readers and this story (with others) for so long. I went through a long spell where I kind of just lost passion for anything and I just recently rekindled my love for writing and this franchise.**

 **So, a quick update on things; I finally sat down and plotted out this entire story and hashed out the details on all of the characters it'll focus on, so I'm good to go drafting-wise and will be updating regularly until its completed. I'm aiming for once a week instead of several times a week like I used to do with previous stories so I can kind of stretch this story out and give myself time to work on updating/completing other works I started so they'll be ready for publishing as soon as this is done. I have a list of updates/stories I'm going to be doing at the bottom of my profile, with their progress and extra notes on them.**

 **That aside, I wanted to bring up something about Barricade. I've gone over some other fanfictions and their portrayals of him for inspiration and decided that I'm going to try doing something different with him without branching out into making him OC. My view on him for this story is that he's been around for a long time, he's been very active and loyal to the cause in the war, he's lost his team(maybe/probably more than one), he's generally in a lot of pain, he's been alone since Frenzy's death, he knows that he is vulnerable to autobots in this state, he still believes in the original ideals that brought him to the decepticons in the first place, and overall he's just exhausted by it all. I just wanted to express these things before we get deeper into the story so you have an idea of why I'm writing him the way I am.**

 **Long author's note is long. I'll keep them shorter in the future. Regardless, thank you for reading. Again, I apologize to my previous readers for taking so long to get my quad in gear, and to any newcomers that have joined us, welcome and thank you for reading.**

 **Reviews, as always, are cherished and appreciated. Sending love and good fortune to all of you.**

 **Aloha, her father, Chandler and the story belongs to me. Transformers and Barricade do not.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha came to as she'd fallen asleep-her back to the wreck and her face buried in the musty cushion of her futon. The dream still fresh in her mind, she rolled over. She blinked wearily at the dim light that leaked into the garage, through the cracks under the door to the house and the garage door itself. A dull reflection highlighted all of the ugliness of her would-be possessed art project. It was exactly as she'd left it, sitting quietly in the middle of the garage-

In the middle? Aloha gingerly pushed herself up, raking ratty bleach blonde hair from her face as she considered the car further. Had it been that far in the middle last night? She could have sworn that when the grease-monkeys she bought it from pushed the car into her garage, it was closer against the wall. Then again...she'd noticed it being slightly misplaced yesterday, too. What the hell was going on? She took a breath and cringed when pain blossomed through her torso.

Aloha went to her questionably-clean pile of clothes and dug out her ugliest, comfiest sweats and t-shirt. First thing first; coffee. Then breakfast and pain meds. Maybe some meditation. Contemplating the great questions of the universe could wait. After yanking her clothes on she set Darla back up on the futon and turned her toward the wreck and pointed menacingly at it, "Shes watching you."

Satisfied, Aloha padded through the door and into the house.

If she was religious, she would have bowed her head to the higher power that be when she saw her dad had already gotten the coffee pot running and was in the process of loading a plate with over easy eggs and buttered toast. As it was, her dad was hardly a divine deity so she patted his shoulder instead. He smiled at her, his dark eyes warm.

"Good morning, baby." He greeted, "are you hungry?"

" _So_ hungry." Aloha fixed herself a cup of hot donut blend while her dad forked over some eggs and toast to another plate. She sat down with breakfast and nibbled on her toast until her dad joined her. They ate in peaceful silence, either content just sharing a meal with the other.

"I'm going to meditate before these pills make me see tap dancing bananas again," Aloha said before swallowing her medication.

Her dad laughed, "I'll join you."

She went outside and grabbed their respective cushions from the couch while he placed their dishes in the sink. She was already sitting down and breathing evenly when he quietly sat down beside her.

In and out, slow, even breaths that drew her deeper and deeper into a sense of self where she could truly be at peace.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Barricade settled into a state somewhere between recharge and full awareness, catching up on the rest his repairs demanded from him. After rousing when his sensors alerted him of movement, he focused on her in time to see her clamber out of her nest of blankets and walk through the room completely bare of any sensible or protective coverings. She then squatted down on the floor to dig through one of the piles of clothes until she found something satisfactory. She glanced back at him more than once, either out of caution or curiosity, then continued her ridiculous antics by setting the synthetic half-female back on the futon. She had proceeded to make a show of pointing the object towards him and warning him that he was being watched.

He almost snorted at the absurdity of it.

Once she vanished into her housing unit, Barricade allowed her to slip from his immediate attention as the ache of a war-ravaged frame made itself known. He glanced through the updates to repairs, noting the good and the bad, then removed it from his thoughts as well. His body was rapidly burning through energon reserves, which had been low to begin with, but there was nothing he could do about it while he was incapable of moving more than a few feet at a time. Barricade would have to sit and conserve what energy he had, and wait it out. He'd managed more in worse situations.

He allowed his sensors to dim enough not to be alerted every time one of the two humans so much as breathed in his direction from inside the house, and settled low on his tires for in hopes of recharging more.

He was almost there when he felt something take shape nearby; a gathering of life force or energy. Barricade raised back up on his bruised axles at full attention, his first conclusion being that an autobot had finally sniffed him out and was coming to forcefully remove him.

Barricade held still for several seconds before realizing that regardless of how bad the autobots would want him gone, they wouldn't risk openly disrupting this meat bag family. After a closer analysis of the energy, he found that it couldn't be an autobot. It wasn't even cybertronian.

It was something other, like nothing he'd ever faced during his long life. And that was more than enough to fully snag his interest. He observed the energy, growing more and more focused on it when it moved like water in the air. The edges ebbed and flowed, but the majority of it stayed pooled into one place.

Outside. Behind the human dwelling. Around the female.

Barricade's processor stalled. How...was that even possible? Meatbags didn't carry a spark within them. Their life force was all squishy biology. While they may share some traits with his kind, the differences far outnumbered them, and they could not carry or manifest energy even remotely close to a spark.

And here was this one, this pitiful glitched female, who was not only manifesting that energy but projecting it outside of her body. Had he been wrong? Had all of the sources available on their wireless network been wrong? Did humans have a spark? Or was she simply a freak among her kind?

No. The male was also projecting a serene pool of energy, though it was much more shallow and felt different overall.

Barricade monitored both of them, completely swallowed in the mystery and newness of it. Unfortunately, just as he decided to attempt further analyzing them, the pools funneled back into their respective hosts. The humans stood up and separated. The male left the house, but the female returned to the garage with a noticeable stumble to her step.

She sat down heavily on her futon and scraped that light-colored mess on her head away from her eyes. She stared out at nothing, unresponsive to him even when he accidentally sank down on his axles. She didn't so much as flinch.

Confused even further by this sudden change in behavior, Barricade cautiously scanned her and found a number of new drugs in her bloodstream that were impairing her mental capacities. This time he did snort outloud. To check, Barricade settled all the way down before pushing himself back up. His body ached in protest but he quickly pushed it from his thoughts. The human continued to stare at him.

Barricade leaned from side to side, undercarriage squealing. Nothing. He then flashed his cracked headlights at her. The human blinked slowly back.

"Hey," She said, making him freeze mid-flash. She paused for several seconds before she continued, "how did you get all the way over there?"

If he had been able to transform, he'd be staring at her in the same manner she was at him. He turned his lights off and finally returned himself to a relaxed posture. Barricade regarded her carefully before coming to a decision on his next action.

"I used my wheels." He said as clearly as he could through the rough static that still haunted his damaged vocal processors. Barricade waited, holding his vents as if so much as an exhale would bring the entire autobot army crashing down on top of him.

She nodded slowly. "Makes sense."

More silence.

"So how are you feeling?" She said.

Barricade stared, "Like the pits."

Another nod in his direction. "Yeah. If you had a face I'd give you some of my tap dance banana pills."

What in Primus' name was this human even made of? Was she processor-damaged? Before he could think of a response, she was moving on to their next topic. "I'm really tired."

"What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Where else am I going to go, fleshling?"

"Okay." She'd barely said the word before she fell to the side and wrapped herself around the synthetic half-female. Barricade ran extensive scan after extensive scan on her while she wasn't talking through a drug-addled haze at him.

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha woke with her face buried between a mannequin's unforgiving breasts. Groaning, she turned over and set Darla down on the floor. She started to stretch but curled in on herself instead when a sharp, white hot pain pulsed through her torso.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow." Aloha took a minute to wallow in her pain before she made herself get up. She stumbled over the clothes on her way back into the house. A loud 'clank' stopped her cold just as she reached the door. Slowly, she turned to look at the wreck, sitting oh-so innocently in the middle of the garage.

Now wide awake, Aloha squinted at the car with renewed suspicion and watched it closely. It didn't move or make a sound for several minutes, so she looked back at the door and placed her hand on the doorknob. A sharp hiss, like a machine venting heat. She spun around on her toes and glared at the car, entire body poised to run or fight.

It seemed...lower? Aloha squeezed the door handle. Her eyes roved over every inch of the car that was visible to her. It behaved this time, but she couldn't shake the weight in her gut that told her something had changed. Something she could hear and even feel in the air around her. Basic animal instinct told her to run in the face of the unknown. Instead, her grip on the door knob loosened and she moved away from her quickest exit.

The wreck was perfectly still the entire walk back to it. Aloha kept her hands balled up into fists at her sides when she came within range of it's mangled paneling. Forcing her fingers to uncurl, she reached out with one hand toward the hood. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she carefully laid her hand down on the metal and felt the same different _something_ that alluded her the night before.

It was...warm. Beneath the grid texture, a subtle heat radiated from the metal.

"What are you?" Aloha whispered, sliding her palm across the grimy surface. She looked at the windshield, so crisscrossed in cracks it was a miracle it was all still in one piece. The glass itself, or what she could make out of it, was tinted jet black. That was...odd. Aloha was less than a novice when it came to vehicles, but she had seen enough of them to know that front windshields weren't usually tinted so dark.

Aloha leaned closer to see better, putting some weight unto the palm braced on the hood. Beneath the metal, something shifted noisily and she jumped backwards with a yelp. Her hand left the metal and the interior of the car flashed with an electric blue light. A glimpse of a grim face peered at her through the dark glass, scowling right at her before it flickered out.

Screaming, Aloha spun around and charged from the room, tripping once again on all of her dirty clothes. She almost wiped out three times before she got to the door, wrenched it open and threw herself into the hallway. She slammed the door shut with more force than necessary and slid the deadbolt lock in place before moving toward the farthest corner of the house from the garage.

Minutes later she was swaddled up in a layer of old comforters in the back hallway, her shoulder to her dad's bedroom door. She stared out into the empty house, eyes wide with terror as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

It was the meds. It _had_ to be. That was the only explanation. She was hearing, feeling and seeing things that her brain was pulling out of it's rear end because the meds were that strong. But what about when she tried cutting into the car? She'd tried a saw and a sledge hammer on it and it came out of each encounter without so much as a scratch. And the electricity that had encased the vehicle when she kicked it...could that maybe have been from the pain? Or had she hit her head when she fell?

"Please be the meds," Aloha whispered, "please, please, please. I am not losing it. My art project is not demonic or possessed. It is just the pain and the meds. Maybe stress. God, I could use a drink."

She went rigid when she heard a distant rumble, sounding like it was just outside the walls of the house. Aloha repeated her mantra, staring down the hall and in the direction of the garage.

* * *

 **I've gotten a lot of progress done on this fic (up to chapter 9 and still going). I've also finished writing the next installment of the Cataclysm arc in _Reflections_ (will be updated later this week), and started the process of rewriting _The Guardian_ (will be updated once I have more chapters done). **

**Let me know what you think.**

 **Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. Love you all.**

 **Aloha, her father and the story belongs to me. Barricade and Transformers do not.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha avoided the garage for the rest of the week. Her father didn't say a word about it until he woke up for the fourth day in a row and found her crashed on the couch, still dressed in the ugly sweat pants she'd changed into the day the car decided to freak out on her.

That morning he brought her a mug of coffee and sat beside her on the couch. "Alo, sweetie. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," She said too quickly, "everythings peachy keen. Why wouldn't it be?"

He raised an eyebrow at her but didn't press for details. Instead he said, "Hows your bruise?"

"Going away," Aloha sipped on her coffee and closed her eyes in bliss.

"Are you up to a morning walk? It will do us both good."

'Do us both good'. Aloha recognized this as her dad's version of 'you're freaking me out'. He would never come out and say so, it went along with his 'never tell my child no' philosophy. Aloha turned it over in her head then agreed. Bracing herself, she hoisted her sore body up and ambled across the house toward the garage door.

Quietly and ever so slowly, she unlocked the door and opened it. Aloha made sure most of her body was hidden behind the door to shield herself. She peered into the bedroom, scanning the space with a critical eye before she focused on the wreck. It was as she'd left it, parked in the middle of the floor with its mangled body glinting in the faint light from the door way.

Aloha shut the door just as slowly as she opened it. Safely hidden again, she psyched herself up in the hallway and did some stretches to warm her body up in case she needed to run away again. Once she was pumped and limber, she yanked the door open, darted into the room, shoveled through her semi-clean clothes pile, yanked out what she needed, grabbed her backpack and wallet off the floor and vanished right back into the house before any incidents happened.

Aloha went through a quick scrub down in the shower and threw her clothes on before she met her dad in the kitchen. Together they ate then headed out.

The sun was already making its way up when they stepped outside. Their usual route took them several blocks over and toward the donut shop. Even though she was full, Aloha couldn't resist the magic of a bag of glazed donut holes, so she ran in and bought them both one while he watched the sky change colors in the parking lot.

On their way back, they walked past a vaguely familiar house and a group of guys working in the yard. Aloha stopped, squinting at them until she realized that this was the same crowd she bought the wreck from. Her feet took over her brain and suddenly she was across the road and racing up their driveway. The boys stopped and looked at her with alarmed eyes.

"Hey! Hey, do you remember me?" Aloha began, "I bought that cruiser from you at the-"

They _scattered._ Each one of them broke apart from their task like demolition and raced to hide.

"HEY!" Aloha gave chase across the fresh-cut grass. She had one of them in her sights. He slipped with a yelp and she was upon him with a war cry. They fell to the grass and tumbled.

Aloha grimaced when he kneed her gut while trying to attempt. "I just want to talk, dammit!"

"No! I'm not taking it back!" He fought for his life against her, "You bought it! Its your problem!"

"Not even if I gave it back to you for free?! You can still-"

"NO!"

Aloha rolled off when she was shoved. "Ouch, you dumb dandy." Aloha huffed, "at least tell me what you know about it."

He got to his feet and stared at her with his eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. "Its cursed, Satan and Ford's lovechild."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Aloha rubbed her throbbing abdomen, "what did it _do_ to you?! I've seen it do some wild crap but you guys act like it committed mass genocide."

"Close enough! That thing is pure evil! When we first got it, it came alive and tried to electrocute all of us!"

Aloha stared at him, immediately thinking of the bright arcs of electricity that danced over the wreck's entire body when she kicked it the first day she had it.

"The car _moved,_ it shook and the engine revved and locked up." He pointed at her, "I _warned_ you about that car! And you still bought it! So don't come crying to us about it being exactly like it was advertised."

"Exactly like it was advertised?! Are you stupid?!" Aloha leaned toward him, forcing him to retreat a step. "You didn't tell me it was possessed! What am I supposed to do with a possessed car?! Burn some sage and throw a cross and a bible at it?! 'The power of christ repels you, car'?!"

"Its your problem now!"

Aloha wanted to punch him. "I know its my problem! Thats my whole stupid point! What am I supposed to do with it?!"

"Alo?" Her father cautiously stepped over the curb and into their yard with a concerned look on his face. Still, he smiled shakily at her, "Aloha, whats happening right now?"

"Just," The guy sighed and scrubbed a hand through his greasy hair. "I'm sorry things turned out like this but I can't help you. Please don't come back."

"Are you...are you serious right now? You pass this huge problem to someone without properly telling them what they're in for, and just move on?! What if it commits mass genocide on _me_!"

"Your goddamned problem!" He repeated in a tone that said the conversation was over.

Aloha growled menacingly at him, cutting him the most malice-filled glare she could manage. He whimpered like a beaten puppy and ran into his house. The door slammed and audibly locked. She scanned the yard and found that the other boys were long gone.

Heaving a sigh, Aloha turned from the house and walked back down to her dad. She grabbed the bag of donuts she'd flung in her mad rush to catch someone and stopped on the curb. "Sorry, dad. I bought something from those stupid boys at the auction and they didn't tell me about some of the, uh, problems it has."

Her dad blinked slowly at her, and she could just see him trying to match her excuse with what had happened and what he had perceived from it. He continued to smile, "Its okay, Alo. People do tend to lie a lot, or at least hold the truth to themselves."

Aloha nodded in agreement. "Home?"

"Home." He agreed. They finished their walk together and parted ways at the house, he to work and she to contemplate what she'd been told.

Later that morning, Aloha finally moved back into the garage. She kept an eye on the wreck at all times, even when she sat down heavily on the futon with lap top in hand. It behaved this time, sitting quiet and still in it's place.

Aloha slowly relaxed around it, eventually shifting her full attention to her computer as she began to research. What was supposed to be a new art project to test her abilities and raise her to the next artistic level, had unfolded into a huge mess that was potentially-and she tried not to think about this too much- life threatening issue. She didn't know where to start with this mess, but she would go small. Maybe if she discovered what model or issue, or whatever they called cruiser makes, it was then she could find out where they were generally used.

The guy who sold the wreck to her had mentioned it being a Ford, so she started there. Ford's were used for law enforcement, but the majority of them that were in state were larger vehicles than the demon-possessed wreck resting quietly in her room. Unless they were Crown Vics, but it looked as if those were becoming obsolete. The longer she sifted through google searches and images, the more confused she became. She couldn't find a cruiser anywhere that looked like the one she had.

Unless...it wasn't a real cruiser. Which would explain why the boys found it abandoned and without papers. But why was it painted like a cruiser? She wasn't too savvy on these things, but she imagined that a cruiser paint job would be illegal on anything but an actual cruiser.

Aloha looked over her screen at the car. Was she approaching this the wrong way? She cleared her search and opened another one on just Fords. After meticulously surfing through hundreds of images, trying to pair one to the crumbled front end of her wreck, she decided that it had to be some kind of Mustang from the body style. There was so many makes and models from there that it was hard to decide the exact one without the wreck being un-wrecked or getting a closer look at it than what she was comfortable with.

Unfortunately, she didn't know what else to do. She closed her lap top and set it aside before tip toeing over to the car. Before she was within touching range, she exhaled and promised, "If you don't hurt me, I won't have you dragged into a ditch."

She paused to listen, but it was eerily quiet. Aloha squatted down and examined the front end of the car, gently feeling the metal with her finger tips. Like before, it was giving off it's own heat. Which meant one of three things. One, she was losing her mind and this was the start of a bad downspiral. Two, this car was, in fact, Satan's spawn and it's life force was hellfire. Three, the car was...alive. Which was the least likely of the three. Because it was a car. And cars were inanimate. If it was true, Aloha was still checking herself into a facility to have her brain meat examined.

There was no emblem on the front of the car. Not that she really expected to find one with how her luck had been going lately. She lifted her fingers and rubbed the layer of grime now caked on them with a scowl. "Yuck."

She wiped her fingers on her jeans before standing up and making her way around. She paused each time she saw a new 'shiny' spot, places where the car used to be all torn up but were now in tact, she paused to examine it. The wreck was definitely straightening itself out, little by little.

Aloha forced herself to move on after carefully checking out the last shiny spot. Circling around the rear end, she again looked for some type of emblem to give her a clue. Again, there was nothing that could. Aloha made it to the other side and stepped back with her arms crossed. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

She shifted on her feet, knocking her heel against something solid. Aloha blinked down at the bricks that she had kicked behind the tires when it first arrived, now quite a ways away from said tires. More proof that she wasn't imagining things. Slowly, Aloha scooted the bricks back into place behind the tires with her foot.

She froze when a lock clicked and the door closest to her popped open. Aloha stared, terrified, and remained exactly as she was leaning slightly against the rear panel with her foot still in contact with the brick behind the wheel. Cautiously, she removed her foot and straightened up. Aloha swallowed her fear and reached for the door-

Only to have it slam shut before she could even touch it. Aloha jumped and snapped, "Would you _stop_ messing with me?! Why can't you just be a normal bad-for-the-environment car!"

The door lock slid back into place cheekily. She glared at it and quickly retreated from the vehicle's space. She left her room, grabbing her lap top on the way and mumbling about devilish spawn with attitude. "My problem," She spat as she shut the door behind her.

* * *

 **I think Barricade is having too much fun jacking with her. We'll be seeing more in the next chapter.**

 **Well, let me know what you guys think!**

 **Aloha, her father, their shenanigans, and the story belongs to me. Transformers and all of its cannon characters do not.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Energon levels were getting lower. Barricade brooded over it as he rested inside the female's den. He was burning through what he had left on repairs, which were taking much longer than he had anticipated. Even while he was sorting repairs by priority to ignore the less critical damage, his systems were still eating through it. He wasn't yet recovered enough to transform, never mind leave shelter on a long quest to find a store that wasn't claimed by autobots.

He exhaled slowly, shifting his attention to the human female when she stepped back into the garage, wearing the same scent he had identified as perfume when he first awoke there. Her hands were fluffing the mess on her head, making it even more chaotic.

She crossed the garage, collecting a few final things before pausing nearby. Barricade waited quietly, too tired to mess with her at the moment. Her tiny hand slid over a flat place on his hood, warm and foreign in softness.

Despite insisting on being either terrified or irritated with him on a regular basis, she had become quite fond of examining his form. Particularly places of his armor that repair routines had returned to a somewhat normal state. It amused and grossed him out to no end. This human was as dumb and naive as they came.

"Still healing," She spoke quietly.

Barricade focused on her, sensing the immense well of energy packed down tight into her body. How was it possible that something so small could carry so much? Where did it come from? Why did she have it?

The female waged an internal war inside her head before she left him to retrieve an article of clothing from the floor. She came back, folded the fabric then carefully slid it across his windshield, which was beginning to seal back into one piece little by little. She paused to peer through. Barricade rumbled at her. _What are you doing, female._

She jumped and moved back, squeezing the cloth in her fist. A vehicle pulled into the drive way and honked from the other side of the garage door. A quick scan alerted him that it was just the male that was courting her.

The female leaned toward him and scolded, "Behave or Darla will get you for me."

Barricade huffed, watching as she backed away and headed towards the door to her home. He listened to the sound of doors opening and being shut, greetings and compliments exchanged. Grateful for having some peace at last, Barricade allowed himself to slip back into recharge to await her return.

Barricade jolted awake to the racket of the garage door being forced upward behind him. Cold night air hit his aft, making him jump slightly. He hissed, raising on his axles with the full intention of tormenting the female for barging in so loudly and without a warning.

Usually the quietest vent or the slightest movement could send her scrambling, or at least make her retreat a few paces. He was ignored, however, and he found out why quite quickly.

The female was being corralled into the space by the male, who's pheromones stank up the entire room. He pushed her into the garage and paused long enough to yank down the door. Barricade eyed him critically for a moment before shifting his attention to her. She, interestingly enough, wasn't emitting any scents or other signals that she was anticipating a joining. Curious.

Barricade's anger simmered to mild irritation and amusement. Even among his kind, it wasn't unusual for one half of a pair, outside of sparkmates, to be too enthusiastic about it while the other simply went with it.

The male returned to her and started to strip her down to her skin. Barricade rolled his optics and prepared to power back down so wouldn't be scarred for life over what happened next. But she spoke, her voice low and smooth, sinful. The complete opposite of what she felt. Her actions, down to her body language, were all carefully constructed to encourage her mate, but beneath the surface he sensed her immense and calm energy sour and shrink. It sank further and further into herself until it was no more than the tiniest spark in the pit of her stomach.

He knew this was not what she wanted. Not if it made her so miserable that her very spirit crumbled in the face of it.

Any sort of amusement he felt for the situation vanished in an instant. Perhaps not for the fact that she withdrew deep into herself, but that she had conditioned herself to do it to the point that it was second nature. How many times had she subjected herself to this, and why?

Barricade's frame tensed when she finished snuffing her own light out and became as empty and shallow as her companion. The male was clueless, or he knew but didn't care. Lust-ridden words were exchanged. Hands roamed. He stayed online throughout the process, ignoring the deed but not the damage she was doing to herself to get through it. Time passed, and something like rage coiled in his spark.

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha laid on her side, back to Chandler's chest and front toward the rest of her room. He had his fingers buried in her hair, further tangling the huge curls she had spent an hour styling it into. He was sated, the air around him blissful and a smile in his voice. He talked quietly about his day, even about how things were at home with his wife and kids. She kept up the charade, giggling and agreeing with him when he expected her to.

His free hand slid down her belly to touch her where they had joined. Aloha let him, her eyes closed to the world around her. While he was in the middle of sharing a story about a dumb coworker, a quiet rumble reached her ears. It was subtle enough to be mistaken for a truck driving past outside, but she knew better. Her eyes opened and fixed on the wreck.

It sat stiffly on it's tires, either angry she had brought a guy home or very disgusted. The strangest impulse to apologize hit her, but she stifled it before she could break the sane girlfriend spell.

Chandler leaned down into her ear, "When did you get that thing, by the way?"

"The what?"

"The Mustang. I thought you hated cars. And why one thats so jacked up?"

"It was worse," Aloha admitted, "but it's come a long ways. It was going to be an art project."

He snorted. "Only you can look at a piece of shit and think 'art'."

"Its not a piece of shit," Aloha sighed, closing her eyes. "Its supposed to be my future. And like you're one to talk, mister I spend an ungodly amount of time and money on my car named Velvet."

"Thats an awfully long title, but accurate." He grinned against her cheek, "but seriously. How is this your future?"

Aloha didn't expect him to understand. Chandler never had to learn how to deal with or fix broken things, so why would he think there was any value in them still? And even if it was a demon possessed problem, it was still her demon possessed problem.

"Aloha? Hey. Answer me." The hand went to her shoulder and shook it.

"I told you. Its an art project."

He sighed, "You have talent but this dream of becoming an artist is retarded. You do realize that artists don't survive out here unless their work is loved by more than a few people?"

Ow. Aloha's eyes snapped open into a feral glare, cracking her carefully constructed mask. She held her breath, fighting to keep a lid on the doubt and pain that spread in her veins like a sickness. Clueless, Chandler continued, "And...what if...I was your future?"

Just like that, the fire was doused in ice water and dread took its place. Aloha pushed herself up and turned to look at him, feigning a pleased smile. "Chandler, you have a family. You have kids. They are your future. Not me. I'm just your little joyride."

He chuckled, "I'm not asking you yet, but I want you to at least think about it for me, okay?"

 _No._ "Alright, if thats what you want."

Chandler nodded approvingly before pushing at her to get up. Aloha did, raking a hand through her hair while he turned and got dressed. She gave him a kiss before he left, wrapping herself in a blanket to see him to the door. Once it was back down, the mask shattered and she sank down to the floor.

Since it was closest to her, she leaned her back against the wreck. The warmth of the metal seeped through the thread bare blanket to soothe her tired body. Aloha focused on breathing for a second to calm herself down before whispering, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

The car eased back down on its wheels, slowly so it didn't scrape her. For some stupid reason, she felt tears prick her eyes. Closing them, she let her mouth run away from her to fix the damage she and Chandler had done, "and you're not a piece of shit."

Inhaling, she reinforced her statement. "You are not a jacked up piece of shit and I am not a talented joyride."

The wreck was silent, for once not taking the chance to screw with her. Her eyes opened again and she stared at the wall. She stayed like that for hours, silent and blind to the world around her while her fractured pieces tried to fit back together. Her car kept her warm despite the chilly night air slipping under the door.

* * *

With nothing to do the next day, Aloha tossed the remainder of her pills away and opened the fridge in her room. She drank herself stupid, slept it off for a few hours then started over again. Alcohol only filled the void for so long, but at least it numbed her brain. That was enough. Late into the night she dragged herself and every blanket and bed sheet available to the wreck.

Bundling herself up she climbed on top of the hood and laid down.

"What," The car snapped, "are you doing."

Aloha tipped her beer back and swallowed a third of it.

"You _reek._ " The car raised up on its axles in insult, "Get off, female."

"I'm tired," She said.

"Get. Off."

"I wish you could hear me." Another sip.

The car grumbled before raising its rear end up while dropping the front. Aloha started to slide off, but she stubbornly slung her legs out across the hood and tucked her heels against either side. Now spread eagle, she shifted to her back and stared at the ceiling. "I was supposed to be something by now."

Snarling now, the car wiggled back and forth. She moved a solid two inches before stopping again. "I didn't want a family or even a boyfriend. I just," She took a drink, "I just wanted to be the best I could be at what I enjoy."

"Puny, pitiful, female," The car shook itself harder, "if you do not remove your aft from my hood this instant-"

"But I'm not. I've tried everything. I tried doing it myself. I tried going to school. I tried doing it with help. And the only way thats gotten me even close makes me want to die every time I do it."

With a dramatic huff worthy of an angry teenager, the vehicle dropped back to its normal height. "Then why the pit do you do it?"

"Because its the only way now."

"I doubt that."

Aloha raised her beer to the ceiling in a toast, "Lets hear it for dreams that never make it because they're talented but not a lot of people like them!"

"Its pathetic how much you've let that get to you."

"That works. I'm a pretty pathetic person."

"I've noticed."

Quiet stretched out between them. Aloha hugged her bottle against her chest, spilling it on her dirty t-shirt. She started to doze when something occurred to her.

"Hey." She whispered.

"What."

"Are you what you always wanted to be? I mean...things get better, right?"

The wreck went silent. Aloha didn't mind in her drunken state, as long as it let her stay with it. After a few minutes, she hummed and busied herself with drawing invisible pictures on the warm metal beneath her.

"Female."

"Huh?"

"I don't see how pairing with an arrogant glitch you despise is going to help you reach your goal." It's tone was carefully neutral.

"Because of his place in society and his money. The world turns for those things, not for a small person and their dream. Through him, I can meet people I can't anywhere else. People that could see my art and think it's worth sharing."

"This wretched planet is no different than Cybertron."

Aloha blinked at the hissed words. She pushed herself up and turned so that she was laying on her stomach and peering through the tinted windshield. The room spun around them at the action, but she was able to somewhat focus on what she was looking for.

"Is that your home?"

"Was."

"Are you a small person with a dream?"

The car sank down, exhausted. "Was."

* * *

 **Sorry for updating so late in the day. Its been hectic around here since Saturday.**

 **Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

 **Barricade, Transformers and all of it's original characters don't belong to me. Aloha, her family and this story do. Thanks for stopping by.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

The female was drinking herself to ruin.

Barricade watched as she drowned herself two days in a row, noting the effects on her body and brain functions as she tipped back one glass after another. She made herself sick more than once, and spent the time she wasn't consuming poison sleeping. At one point she ended up on the floor, and thats where she stayed. The well of energy inside her was in absolute turmoil, pulsing and dimming. Unable to settle into a single shape or place inside her body.

A pitiful waste, an ending he had seen too often among his kind before he arrived on this dirt ball of a planet. It was unsettling to see such similarities here. In her. Watching her ruin the well of energy within her for a second time was even more so.

Barricade set it firmly aside from his concern. He was not about to spend anymore time on a human that clearly wanted to die. He wasn't going to watch it either, so he powered down into a deep recharge that would hopefully carry him past the process and allow more energy to be placed into repairs.

He awoke, many times into the night at the sound of her anguish and sickness. A few times he sensed the female's housemate pace through the house, giving off signals of being deeply concerned, but the meatbag did not do more than knock on the door, listen for her to call back, then leave. Barricade knew the male had a familial bond with her, and how he could so easily let her fade away was a mystery he wasn't about to delve into.

Until finally, in the middle of heaving her guts out of her fragile frame, the other human opened the door and came to guide her out. Barricade diverted his attention to monitoring the house then, watching as she was taken care of.

* * *

Soft flesh passed over his armor, bringing him to awareness. He tensed to maim or kill, pausing only when he smelled the female's scent. She was sitting on his hood again, dressed in fresh coverings and only carrying a lingering ghost of the putrid alcohol and the sickness it caused.

Checking the planet's date and their location's time, Barricade found that roughly forty-eight hours had passed since she was pulled from the garage. A scan told him that her body was recovering, though minor damage had been inflicted to multiple parts of her organic frame that may prevent her from normally functioning for a while, if ever.

She settled, sitting somewhat straight with her legs crossed and hands clasped between them. Completely quiet, outside of her breathing.

The dim spark brightened and bloomed at her core. Barricade focused on her and saw it fill her body before breaching it. It surrounded her in a chaotic cloud at first, reaching out in several curling wisps. He could sense her attempting to corral it into one space. One of the streams of vivid energy brushed across his EM field-

His entire system lit up like he'd been hit by a hundred live wires. It jolted through his armor, traveled his lines straight to his spark. Barricade went rigid, armor clamping down on his frame. He forced a shuddering exhale through his vents, jerking when it happened again. He fought the sudden impulse to transform, concerned about damaging her.

The female pulled her energy into the serene pool he had first sensed it in, safely away from his armor. Barricade monitored her closely, the aftershocks of the contact vibrating in his energon and dancing in small arcs throughout his frame. Something that had been off-kilter snapped back into place somewhere in his undercarriage.

Barricade scanned through the progress of self repairs and discovered he had more energy to delegate to each task. His processor stumbled over the notion. A transfer of energy, as powerful as if it happened between another of his kind. Interest peaked, he pushed his field outward in an attempt to make contact with her again.

Enveloping her body sent an almost pleasant static crackling through the space between them, but nothing like the surges from before. He expected this since both times had happened because of her displaced energy, not physical contact. Barricade braced himself, and willed his field to breach the pool suspended above her.

A vast pathway ripped opened between them, funneling the human's pure energy straight into his body. He felt his own flood toward her in an almost violent exchange. Vaguely, he was aware of both of their bodies going stiff, but could hardly react as raw, colored emotions ransacked his spark. Anger, fear, pain, loneliness, hope, desperation, need and so much more. The weight of it all could have put him through the floor, but at the same time it threw him into a multi-faceted high like none he'd ever known. How. _How._ How did something so small and insignificant carry so much within itself?

Her spirit, spark or whatever the word for it was, was within him and ever changing. Colors that flashed and melded into others, some he couldn't even name, and others so familiar with their corresponding feelings or thoughts that they could have been mistaken for his own. Old emotions she'd once had, current ones and some that she had carried inside long enough to completely reshape her existence around them. Flashes of her memories filtered through, sharing glimpses of the most important points in her short life.

He tried to grasp it, to get some kind of control on what was happening, but her life force was one to be reckoned with, and by the time the exchange ended, he was left with his spark wide open and his engines hot and revving.

Barricade sat like that for several minutes, spark still hiccuping from the assault and his frame recovering from a heavy overload of energy. His processor was thoroughly scrambled, but he managed to direct his attention to the human laid flat on his hood, heart pounding against her fragile ribs and hair a static mess.

"Holy canolie," The female rasped, "what the _hell_ was _that."_

Barricade sank down on his wheels, shuddering. The last discharges of energy danced up and down their bodies. Moaning, she sat up with one hand pressed against her stomach and looked down at him. She blinked, "Did...did that really just happen?"

Venting loudly, Barricade rumbled back at her. "That," He said, "was an overload." He couldn't believe that it had actually happened, or that he was even admitting to it.

Confusion and terror filled her organic optics. He thought for a moment that it was because he had spoken to her outloud while she wasn't in a drug or alcohol induced haze. However, she didn't run away from him like he expected. Instead, she turned and braced both palms against his armor and leaned toward his now pristine windshield. Then she looked back down at his hood, smoothing a hand over the perfect subtle curve of it.

Barricade noted her attention to the changes and ran a quick diagnostic to see what else had happened. There was still a lot of cosmetic damage across his armor, but most of the internal issues had been or were being solved at that very moment. He felt...better. Stronger, with more energy than he'd had in what felt like ages.

"Overload." She repeated slowly, "does that mean that you got off too?"

"If thats how you fleshlings put it, yes."

"And it made you better? But you were- you were inside of me. Like a-a-a possession or a," She pulled at her hair, "and I saw things...felt them happen to you. Like memories?" Her voice had become hollow and pained. "What the hell is going on!"

"Overloads and energy transfers don't work like that. Not among my people. I'm just a grunt, so I'm the wrong mech to ask."

"But how! How did it even happen?! I was just meditating-"

"I sensed you draw your energy out into the air around you," Barricade cut in, "fleshlings-all organic life on this planet- can't do that. Or shouldn't be able to. How can you?"

"I don't know! I was just meditating! Finding some peace of mind. I didn't know I was going to get spirit-boned by a talking whatever-you-are! What _are_ you?!"

"We exchanged memories and you saw into my spark and you don't _know_? Even my least interested partners paid more attention than you."

"I," Again with dragging her dull nails across her scalp. She curled into herself on him, the potent life force she'd exhibited shrinking back down to the tiny pinprick it had been when she was joining with the arrogant male. "There was so much. I...You've always been fighting. In a war?"

"The war is over."

"And this isn't your home. You're homesick."

"That should be obvious, even to you meatbags."

"Well excuse me. The only logical explanation I had for you was demon spawn-"

Barricade barked out a harsh laugh. The female ignored his outburst and continued, "Not that you were an _alien."_

He eyed her before pushing out his field once more to make contact. She visibly shuddered, still overly sensitive from their shared overload. Huffing, she sat up and started to slide towards the edge of his hood, "I need another shower. And a shot of whiskey."

Experimentally, Barricade passed his field against her body. He could sense veins of both of their energies, interwoven, so thin they were almost nonexistent. They worked like roots throughout her body, from the spark at her core to the surface of her flesh. Every one he touched lit up, like a switch was flipped. If he pressed hard enough...

She went rigid when his efforts coaxed a curl of her life force free from it's condensed state. Barricade closed off all other senses to divert his entire focus to what he was doing. He guided her up and back out of her frame. This time when they met, he clamped down on the connection to prevent another onslaught. He sensed her struggle to do the same. As fun as another massive overload sounded, he needed to build up a resistance and be sure of his ability to close her off in case she tried prodding where she didn't belong.

The female deliberately sent something through the connection, a strain of cautious but genuine trust. Then a thought, a peace offering; ' _My name is Aloha.'_

He would have rolled his optics. This female and her ridiculous antics. He did not need her trust, or to know her name. This, whatever it was, did _not_ make them companions.

He almost channeled that rejection at her, but something stopped him. A twinge in his spark, a stall in his processing. Something that made him grind his dentals. He vented, loosening his vice on their transfer to allow more energy to be exchanged. Her life force drifted through with a pleased tint that immediately soothed the tension out of his frame. It had been an age since he had connected to someone so intimately. His spark ached for it, and it became his argument for accepting what she offered him.

Barricade reciprocated, his own muted pleasure projected back at her.

 _'Barricade._ _'_

* * *

 ** _Oops._**

 **Saw The Last Knight this past week. That was...interesting. Barricade, though. Like hot damn. There wasn't enough of him in it.  
**

 **Alright, I would love to hear some feedback since this is my first time writing something like this (Human/Cybertronian interactions). I have written up to fourteen chapters for this story, so we're still going smoothly. I'm still working on the next part of the Cataclysm Arc in Reflections, and have rewritten several chapters for The Guardian, which will be up when I finish all thirty something chapters.**

 **Love you guys, thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **Aloha, her family and the story belongs to me. Barricade and Transformers do not.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Barricade, Aloha decided, was a needy little grouch. He was also a drama queen. A giant, metal, brooding one. Somehow that was ten times worse than a regular sized human one. And he was a horn dog, which, surprisingly, wasn't as awful as one would think. If only because melding life forces with someone was the most amazing experience she'd ever had. Still, it was hard to wrap her 'pathetic fleshy processor' around the ridiculous fiasco that was now her life.

First, She was an adult alcoholic that still lived with her dad who constantly wanted to tell her to make better choices but never would because it went against his stupid beliefs. Second, there was this alien car thing in her garage room that was possibly-probably- as evil as whoever thought spiders were a thing that needed to exist. Third, it was now a he, and he had a name. Fourth, she couldn't figure out if she was cheating or not with this thing on her boyfriend, who she didn't like and who was also cheating on his wife with her, and could care less about what it said about her morally. And, finally, fifth, her brain and emotions were completely out of control because she couldn't meditate and calm down anywhere in her house without being roped into a 'transfer' with Barricade that usually led toward an 'overload' which meant that she ended up heaving on the floor with the world spinning around her.

There was, officially, nothing normal or boring about her life. That ship had finally sailed and it was time to wave goodbye.

A whopping two days had passed since their first meld.

She laid on her futon with her eyes set on the ceiling. Barricade was resting, _finally_. He was looking like a brand new car, or whatever he was. All of his clean lines were in tact and almost every dent in his body had been popped back out. Aside those few blemishes and his missing mirrors that wouldn't grow back, he was perfect. A side effect to all of the 'transfers' they'd been doing, or so he told her. Most of the time he'd made it sound like that was the only reason why he pushed for it.

Aloha wondered sometimes if he remembered that these things went both ways. While he certainly acted like it was done only out of necessity, she could sense a canyon-like hollow in his spirit that told her otherwise. He was lonely. Most likely had been for a very long time. Loneliness was something she understood deeply. Besides her father, who she still somewhat distanced herself from, there was no one in her life that she loved. And despite never saying it and pretending he was invulnerable to weakness, Aloha had quickly discovered that Barricade had no one. So that was her argument for agreeing to let this continue. Besides that the transfer was like her soul stuck a fork in an electrical socket.

Huffing, Aloha forced herself up. She got a cooler from her fridge and alternated between drinking it and gathering all of her dirtiest clothes up for the laundry mat. Once they were sorted into a pile, she picked the others up off the floor, then moved on to the next task in her mission to tidy her room. She passed Barricade's still form two or three times, each time she felt the tangles of his life force greeting her. Even when he was knocked out, he wanted familiar company. The raw intensity of that instinct or need hurt to think about.

Aloha pulled away from him and dressed into reasonable clothes before she gathered up her dirty pile and took it into the house.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Barricade jolted awake to the sound of banging on the door behind him. Rumbling angrily, he ran a scan on the source. It was the meat bag attempting to court the female. He vented when the male persisted, fist pounding on the metal while he called her name.

Barricade considered transforming to blast him into the next galaxy. Venting, he searched the rest of the house for her signature and found it gone. Odd. The female didn't leave her home often, unless it was with her parent, who had left the early that morning, or with the arrogant glitch that was currently making a ruckus on their doorstep.

In a show of absolute willpower, Barricade sat still until the glitch gave up and left the area. Once he was sure that no one was nearby, he attempted to transform. His head ended up knocking against the lights hanging from the roof, making them sway precariously. He settled on the ground, then cursed when there wasn't enough room for his legs to stretch out. The end result was an awkward arrangement of too-big limbs in a cramped corner of the garage. It was immensely frustrating to finally transform only to be limited to such a narrow space.

Still, he had done it, and with minimal incident. His systems hummed and functioned as they were intended to. All of his joints and extremities appeared to be in good form. Discovering the female's healing life force had been a wild stroke of luck as it actively fed itself into repairing his damage with every merge. Progress was rapid and clean. More importantly, it allowed him to stretch out his energon reserves far more than he'd be able to without it.

Not that he should let that lull him into a false sense of security. Now that he was well enough to travel, priority one was locating his own store of energon. To do that, he needed to leave this place. Barricade considered his options and ran searches online for clues to a deposit somewhere planet side.

He was testing what he could of his weapons systems inside the space when the female returned. She walked up to the garage door, and Barricade scrambled to transform back down before someone caught a glimpse of him and alerted authorities. He shut his doors just as she slipped inside.

She looked at him questioningly, holding a container of clean coverings under one arm. Barricade vented at her, "That pathetic meat bag you call a mate came bashing on your door while you were gone."

He sensed her mood drop. She exhaled slowly, "He probably sent me an email that I didn't check. He does that every once and a while when he gets a chance to come by but can't wait for me to respond."

"Next time he comes uninvited I will snap his spine in half."

She moved past to set the container down on the floor in front of her futon. "Is it bad that I'm not even a little upset by that?"

He snorted. "Not surprising. Nothing screams disdain for someone like dousing your own spark to survive any contact they make with you."

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you watched us do the dirty the other night, you perverted mess."

"You didn't exactly make an effort to spare my senses of it."

She rolled her eyes at his offended tone. The female sank down on her seat-bed and rifled through the container. Barricade studied her, instinctively scanning her to check the progress of her recovery. He sensed her life force flowing through her body, escaping in small vents through the roots in her flesh left by their transfers. It was richly colored, and he could sense the emotions that plagued her even from across the garage. Not at peace, and not quite in turmoil. Something was weighing on her processor, though.

Not his problem, he firmly reminded himself. Barricade inched forward on his tires, "Female."

"Demon spawn."

He rumbled quietly at her automatic response, "I will be leaving soon."

She stopped and raised her eyes to him, though her expression was too neutral and foreign to read. "What?"

"I didn't stutter, fleshling."

"Aren't you still recovering?"

"I can travel."

She stared at him for a long time, offering no clue to what she thought of his decision. The female shrugged then, "Alright, then." She dismissed him and returned to her previous task.

Barricade stared at her. Was that all? She had snappy responses to everything he did or said, but now she was suddenly content to ignore him? "Preferably sometime this week."

"You could just go today," She dropped nonchalantly. Her eyes raised to his frame again, "Theres nothing keeping you here."

Oh, no she wasn't. She was not about to subject him to a passive aggressive female tantrum because she saw some kind of relationship where there wasn't one. Barricade hissed at her, "No, theres _not_."

She squinted at him, "Whats your deal, Barricade? Stop acting like I should freak out if you go." He growled back at her, and she quickly cut him off, "listen here, you dumb dandy. I don't care what you do with your life as long as you just take care of your stupid butt-headed self. If you think I'm being sassy with you because I think theres something between us just because we did some things together, then you're the one who hasn't been paying attention."

Silence. Barricade processed her words and did a double-take on her body language.

"I mean, really? I pimp out myself out to some stupid a-hole that thinks he's god's gift to the world so I can use his connections. And thats not the first time I've done this. Besides you, theres been others I've snuffed myself out for, just to stay ahead. Foreplay, sex, transfers, overloading, whatever. Its just a means to an end and there is no value in it to me. There never was. I am not looking to get attached to anyone. I have no interest in it, so you can trash that idea right now."

She started folding her clothes, something he'd never seen her do. A distraction to what she was feeling or thinking? Barricade narrowed his optics and expanded his field toward her, like a predator leaping for it's prey.

He completely encircled her in it, delving into all of the key roots of her life force that reacted best to him. Her physical body went rigid with a startled yelp, but her energy broiled beneath the surface, hungry to breach and join his. It was a matter of coaxing her forth, and seizing the bond as it burned open between them yet again.

On a mission to prove his point, he flooded her with feeling, color and signals. Reactions she couldn't willingly alter or stop rushed back to him, carrying an intoxicating pleasure and excitement that sent him soaring on a high he had yet to get used to.

'No value' his aft. She thrived on the joining just as he did. _'You enjoy this_ ', and his thoughts didn't need to carry a smug tone because she would feel it clearly and know that he had won. _'You are no less immune to this than I am, and you, more than any other fleshling I've seen, are prone to addiction.'_

 _'You're an asshole.'_ The heated response felt like whiplash, but he felt himself grin. Even her rage acted like a catalyst. It burned in both, insult and pleasure. Chuckling, he guided the flow of their transfer, running her anger down to his spark where it mellowed into something softer but no less heated. Back to her, and he felt her resolve crumble.

Dead-set on having the last word, he focused entirely on leaving her weak and wanting more.

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha's eyes burned like molten lava when she returned to her room after a long cold shower only to find Barricade innocently napping away. If he was human, she would have punched him in the throat then kicked him in the nuggets for his stupid all-male power trip he'd just pulled on her. He may be sleeping soundly after his hard-earned victory, but he was about to figure out just how dangerous a wild Aloha could be when backed into a corner.

He may have won the battle, but the war was hers.

Aloha dropped a full arm load's worth of Press N' Seal plastic wrap and three rolls of duct tape on her wrist on her turn table.

While he was asleep in la la land, she went to work. His field reacted to her, pleasantly sliding across her skin in greeting and open acceptance. She divided her attention between her work and constantly soothing him with her own energy, making sure he felt safe and secure so he didn't wake up before she was done.

With borderline murderous intent, Aloha completely encased his body in two or three layers of plastic wrap before she grabbed Darla's top half from the floor and dressed her in an old t-shirt with 'THE MOODY BITCH' written in huge letters in permanent marker across the front. Then she took the mannequin and slapped her down on top of Barricade's body like the world's most glorious hood ornament and strapped her down with two rolls worth of duct tape. The last roll was spread all across his frame, wrapped tight over the plastic to make sure it wasn't coming off any time soon.

Aloha took pictures from every angle, intending to have copies made and stashed everywhere for black mail and reminders that the only reason Barricade was lucky enough to even be graced with her presence was because she bought him for dirt cheap to tear him apart and reshape him into something else.

Grabbing her lap top and a beer from the fridge, Aloha left the house and sat down on the curb to download pictures and drink.

Less than twenty minutes later, an engine roared in wrath. She felt the vibrations all the way to the curb, and sensed the black anger of his spark. Aloha raised a middle finger toward the garage and tipped her bottle back.

* * *

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this update. I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to replying to everyone yet, I promise I'll sit down and do that soon as I can.**

 **Love to all, wishing you a good week.**

 **Aloha, her father and the story belongs to me. Barricade and Transformers does not.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

A reluctant truce had been hashed out between them since Barricade needed Aloha to cut him free and Aloha needed to be able to enter her room without getting ran over. The afterglow of Barricade's little victory quickly died and he fell into a sour mood for the following weekend. Aloha let him have that at least, content with the peace and quiet though she felt a distinct unease in her spirit that he was so displeased. Aloha quickly reminded herself that there was nothing to be sorry about.

Chandler sent Aloha several emails, in a big hurry to set a date for some stupid reason. She was terrified to find out why. If he tried to take their 'relationship' to the next level like he'd implied their last date, Aloha didn't know if she'd be able to keep it up any longer than what it took to tell him to go screw himself. But that would leave her with another failure, and she was so tired of failure.

Aloha sorted through her clothes, her brain and soul heavy. She was having a hard time choosing the day's outfit, because she just couldn't bring herself to truly place effort in it like she used to. Finally, she settled on some skinny jeans and a nice enough top that tip toed between being dressy and casual.

She took a drink, stripped out of her pajamas, took another drink, then dressed.

"He will smell it on your breath," Barricade said.

Aloha narrowed her eyes, "He knows I drink."

"He doesn't want you to."

"He also wants me to love him unconditionally and live in his bed naked so he can spread my legs whenever he wants."

Barricade snorted with low laughter. "Well, he's almost reached half of his goal."

Aloha stopped just short of pulling her pants over her hips. She glared at him, "I will drop these right now and come rub my naked squishy body all over you."

Barricade raised up in alarm and slid backwards, " _No."_

"Yes." Aloha buttoned her jeans and turned fully towards him while slipping her blouse on. She eyed him carefully, uncertain about what she was about to ask him. "Barricade? Can you...do something for me?"

"Do I look like I'm here to serve you?"

She ignored his biting tone, "I can't...I don't," Aloha huffed. "Can you join with me? Just for a second?"

"And spoil the fun for your mate?" He said the word like it was a mockery.

"No, no. I feel like I'm losing my mind right now, and when I tried meditating earlier I couldn't focus and-"

His field caressed her skin, pressing along her body. Seeking, asking. It was different than the almost violent assaults he usually nailed her with. Aloha closed her eyes and made herself concentrate enough to meet him. The bond that opened between them was cool and soothing, like water. He was the ocean, and she was an oil spill, but he filtered through the ugly and guided her to a serene center. Aloha sent heartfelt gratitude back to him and shared her new calm as a peace offering.

He opened himself to receive it, his acceptance clearing the fog from her thoughts. When she withdrew, he allowed it and the pathway was gently shut. A sharp contrast to what normally happened between them, and somehow it felt so much more intimate.

Aloha slipped her shoes on when she heard Chandler's mustang rumble into the drive way. She walked to the door, leaned down and kissed Barricade on his door frame, then she left.

* * *

"You are my second chance."

She was here, sitting on the park bench, poised pretty and smiling like a porcelain doll. Chandler was beside her, his hand cupped around hers and his eyes peering into hers and searching for the adoration he knew was there.

Aloha breathed and her porcelain chest cracked. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Disappointment. But a doll did not feel these things. She smiled sweeter, and a look of relief overcame the pensive stare Chandler had on her.

"You are everything I've ever wanted, and I choose you."

"Chandler...your family-"

"We fell out of love a long time ago."

"Your kids-"

"They're strong."

"My family-"

"Aloha, you don't have a family."

The mask cracked. Just a little. Her smile faltered, lips twitching and just barely turning into the beginnings of a snarl. Chandler sat back, "Whats wrong with you?"

He asked, Aloha told herself, this has moved away from what you needed. End it. She opened her mouth to say so, but nothing came out. What if this was her last shot? What was the possibility of success worth? If she made a choice now, what were the consequences?

Chandler was frowning now. "Do you not want this? I thought you loved me."

"I do, Chandler," Aloha said softly. She placed her hand on his cheek and ran her thumb under his eye, "You are very important to me." _Stop._

He sighed, "I know its a big decision, but we were made for each other."

"Can you give me some time to think? About what I'll say to my dad." She needed to get away, to figure out what she needed.

He made a face. Aloha fought the urge to slap him.

"Chandler, this isn't something you can just do on a whim. Do you honestly expect me to just drop everything I am when you ask me to?"

"And what exactly do you have to drop? You have no job. No friends. No family."

"I _have_ my dad."

"Isn't he ready for you to leave?"

Aloha stared at him for a while, seriously wondering if all of the time she wasted with him could ever be worth what she had originally set out to do. She really, really needed a drink. With a sigh, she stood up. Chandler scrambled after her, "Aloha!"

"I'm going home." She ignored his protests, slinging her purse over her shoulder. Chandler trotted up to her.

"Aloha, what is-"

"I know that you have your very _stupid_ opinions about me, but I want you to know that they're wrong. I have a family. My dad _is_ my family. He is the only family I've had all of my life and I will never chose someone, especially some idiot who thinks I owe him the world, over him."

His hand gripped her arm, tight. She was too unsettled to grimace, pivoting instead to face him. "Chandler. Let me go."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Its like you're a completely different person. I knew you'd been drinking!"

"Because drinking so clearly tops cheating on your wife and wanting to abandon your kids on the bad morals scale. Also, its none of your damn business what I do."

"Yes, it is. You're my-"

Aloha jerked free, "I'm not your anything."

"Get your ass to the car."

"I'll walk." Aloha stubbornly turned away from him. Chandler took her by the wrist and squeezed.

"No," He spat, "you won't."

She swung around to strike him but he caught her fist, spun her around, and dragged her to the parking lot. Aloha fought him the entire way but was easily overcome by his much larger body. She sat down stiffly in the Mustang and glared out at the passing scenery as Chandler drove her back home.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Barricade stiffened at the foul storm cloud trapped beneath the female's skin.

What he could still sense from their earlier transfer told him that she was an absolute wreck under the perfectly neutral expression on her face. He watched as she bypassed any greetings or even a glance in his direction and went straight toward the appliance that held her precious store of liquid toxins. His optics narrowed when she grabbed more than one and left the space again. He followed her motions through the house. She was going into the back yard, where she promptly sat in the dirt and started drinking.

Anger coiled in his spark. If she continued to do this to herself, she'd ruin all of the fragile organs in her body, and they would fail her.

He waited for her to return. Minutes turned to hours-she was taking her time with these rather than tossing them back in a blind haste to numb all of her problems. When she finally did come back, she only sat one empty glass down. The other, half full, went back into the fridge. She shut the door with both hands and stayed there, still and silent as stone.

Barricade considered attempting to soothe the darkness from her, but held back. Something about her posture, her mannerisms, her stillness-it was all very familiar to him. He knew that contact was the last thing she needed, even if it was intended to heal. If she wanted him to intervene, she'd signal for it by asking or seeking him out with her life force.

So he allowed the silence to settle, and watched over her as she fought a war within herself deep into the night. The female unlocked her limbs without so much as a grimace at midnight and moved slowly toward her seat-bed. Barricade eased down on his axles, sensing that her fragile body was beginning to wind down into it's recharge cycle.

She laid down with her back to him, pulling one of the thinner blankets all the way up to cover everything including her head. Barricade allowed himself to drift toward recharge as well.

A soft curl of her energy brushed against his field, not looking for anything but reassurance that he was there. Without prompting, his field soothed over it with the same gentleness he'd approached her with earlier, and didn't fight to hold contact when she retreated.

* * *

 **I'm so sorry this is late. Hopefully the content will make up for it. Thanks to everyone whos been reading, following, favoriting and reviewing! It means worlds to me that you enjoy this story. Once again, I've slacked on responding to reviews. Bad Demonatron.**

 **I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend, and wish you all a good week as well. Thank you for stopping by!**

 **Aloha, Chandler and the story belongs to me. Barricade and Transformers does not.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha stumbled into the kitchen the next morning feeling like she'd been slam dunked by a giant. She scrubbed her hands through her hair and frowned at how gross it felt. Right, breakfast first, then a shower. One thing at a time, and she'd make it through the day.

Her dad was up and sitting in the wicker loveseat, a cup of hot coffee in his hand and eyes closed in bliss as he sipped from it. Aloha made herself a cup and squeezed in beside him. He smiled warmly at her, "Good morning, Alo."

"Good mornin'." Aloha exhaled slowly after her first sip, trying to expel all of the negativity with it. She closed her eyes when his hand pressed to her forehead, pulling her hair from her eyes. If he noticed her poor hygiene, he didn't say anything.

"Would you like to meditate this morning?" He offered, superb dad senses catching that she wasn't in the best state of mind.

Aloha seriously considered it, wondering if Barricade would let her get away with it. Since their 'fight', he'd chilled out a little but there was no telling when he would start jacking with her again. She also needed that shower in a bad way, and today her dad would be going to work.

She hesitated for a moment longer, wondering which she needed most before slowly shaking her head. "No. I really need to take a long shower today. But maybe we can when you get home?"

"Sounds perfect."

Aloha leaned against him with a heavy exhale. They finished their coffee together in silence. He stood up to make himself a bowl of cereal. Aloha stayed where she was, staring into her empty mug. "Hey, dad?"

"Yes?"

Aloha fought to get her thoughts in order. It was hard to think of a way to ask without spilling the entire story to him, which he was thankfully unaware of. She looked at him and found his soft, dark eyes on her. Calm, trusting, accepting.

"What if theres something you want more than anything, but you can never reach it. So you start making bad choices on purpose to get it, until one day you wake up and you just don't know anymore. You don't know if its worth those choices, or if its worth the next choice you're going to make, or you don't even know what you are after you make them?"

"Hm, that ones a bit heavy." He poked at his cereal with the spoon. "You should be encouraged to pursue what you want out of this life, even if it feels unlikely to actually happen. But, Alo, there are solid limits you have to place for yourself."

"What good is accomplishing your dream if you lose who you are in the process?" He finished, "you have a very strong spirit. It should pull you to your goals, not be broken into pieces to reach them."

Aloha nodded slowly. She sifted through his words. "I will find another way," She said to herself.

"There is always a path waiting for you, you simply have to make it open to you, without sacrificing yourself."

She stood up to put her mug in the sink. Aloha kissed him on the cheek, "Thanks, dad."

He smiled brightly at her. "Any time, baby."

She returned to her room, moving quietly when she found Barricade sleeping in. Clean clothes in hand, she took her shower and returned fresh and clear-headed. Her dad was gone, and her giant, grouchy roommate was becoming aware.

Aloha towel dried her hair, coming to stand nearby him. As always, his field reached out to her. She wondered if it was an impulse, like saying 'hello' when you answered a phone call. She just couldn't picture him so warmly embracing her, on purpose, with his energy every time she decided to walk past.

Twisting the towel into her hair she leaned against his passenger door and said, "Barricade, you said something about leaving a few days ago."

"Suddenly you're interested?"

Aloha rolled her eyes, "Good to see you're back to your usual sassy self. Where are you going?"

"Its not any of your business," He leaned up on his axles a little, raising her up with him.

Aloha mimicked his snob-like tone, "For the sake of conversation, say it was my business."

"There are a few locations on this continent that I need to see."

That told her almost nothing. Aloha shifted and plopped down his hood. He rumbled at her irritably, but admitted, "I am low on energon, and I need to refuel before my reserves are depleted."

"Energon?" Aloha blinked at him.

Barricade unleashed the loudest, most dramatic sigh she'd ever heard, "Energon is what we consume for fuel. It provides nourishment for our frames and ammunition for our weapons. It is vital to us."

"So, like food."

"Not quite."

The details of broody, alien cars were so confusing. Aloha laid back across his hood, with more care than when she initially sat down. She wanted to know if he'd come back, but she didn't want to ask in case it made him puff up like a pea cock. Especially not after their little spat a few days ago about whether or not she was attached to him.

Instead, she said, "If you know where these locations are...can I go with you to one? The closest one?"

"Why would I even consider letting your aft touch my interior?"

"Because you let my 'aft' touch your hood."

Barricade grumbled something under his breath, "No. I don't want you anywhere near me when I leave this pit-forsaken garage."

Aloha rolled over to her side to peer through the glass, "you realize that I've seen what goes on in your head more than once now, and that I know when you're lying through your teeth."

"I realize that that means nothing to me."

"OH." Aloha sat up, "so _I'm_ not allowed to say it means nothing, but _you_ can."

"Yes," He said, "I can."

"You're such a child."

He 'harrumphed' at her and settled back down to his normal height, "Why do you even want to come?"

"I've never left this place. Well, I've been a couple towns over but I've never actually left."

"Then leave."

"I don't want to go by myself. And I won't get far on my bike."

Another ridiculous sigh, "Now whos being the child?"

Aloha turned over completely to her belly and folded her arms under her chin. She closed her eyes, "Look, it works out for both of us. I want to get away for a little bit, and you need to find this energon stuff. Then we can come back. You drop me off, I can store whatever energon you don't eat in my garage, and you can leave again knowing its safe."

"Careful. You're speaking as if you want me to return."

She stuck her tongue out at him, "No, you dumb dandy. I want you to have a place to return to."

Barricade went completely silent, his field withdrawing from the pleasant touches it'd been making on her skin. The sudden absence was alarming, but she restrained herself from talking again or chasing him. If he needed to think, she'd let him.

It was uncomfortable to lay on him for longer than a few minutes, but she found herself dozing off by the time he spoke up again.

"What about your pathetic mate."

"He's not my mate." Aloha exhaled through her nose. She sensed his interest peak.

"You left him?"

"I didn't like who I was becoming around him." She spoke slowly, revealing the truth to herself just as much as she was to him.

The low rumble of his engine softened, and she fought a smile when she felt his field moving across her skin again, like calloused fingertips tracing shapes on her arms.

"Fine. If you must come, then I will endure it." He sounded like he was going to the electric chair.

Aloha finally grinned. She inched forward, obnoxiously gasped, then exhaled just as noisily across his glass to fog it up. Barricade shot up on his tires like she'd just shoved a cold hand up his exhaust pipe.

" _Female_!" He snarled, "What-"

"Hang on, you got a spot here!" She rubbed her hand over the cloudy area on the glass, then breathed on it again.

"How _dare_ you!"

"Almost got it!" Again, she blew on him.

Barricade stood up even higher and started to violently thrash side to side. Aloha held on for dear life, laughing until her stomach hurt.

Barricade rumbled at her, aware of her scrutiny as she looked at the holoform inside his interior.

"I'm not gonna lie, Barricade. That is creepier than a rusty kidnapper van." Aloha squinted at it, "you showed this to me before, didn't you?"

"Yes," Barricade said, grinning to himself, "you ran away screaming."

"What else can you do?"

"A lot of things." He huffed, "you have something to say?" He could feel that she had questions.

"Is there any way you can change the way you look?"

"Why."

"Just curious. It might be weird if someone sees a civilian riding around in a cruiser." She shrugged, "and you kind of stand out. Other than the paint job, theres not too many cruisers with this car model, and definitely none with this insignia you've got stamped all over your butt."

"It is not 'all over my butt'." Barricade considered her logic though, for different reasons than she intended. Disguising himself as a cruiser was useful for getting places much faster. Meat bags tended to flee from the planet's law enforcement. She was right, however. The autobots knew who he was. His signature, his alternate mode, the way how he could turn the fast lane into a war zone. By now, they must have thought he was offline, but that didn't meant they weren't on lookout for anything that even smelled decepticon.

Decision made, he accessed the internet and ran a search for different paint jobs for his alternate. He settled on a solid design, navy blue with black details. He also decided to alter his holoform, removing the uniform and replacing it with civilian clothing. He kept the face, including a hat and the same sunglasses so he could continue to creep the female out.

Once he had all of his reference images and scans finished, he rolled away from her then altered the coding. She made a sound of surprise when he changed, his old markings lost into a digital wash across his armor.

He watched her as he changed, smirking at the clear awe on her face. Once he was finished, he feigned boredom, "This good enough for you?"

She rolled her eyes at him and copied his tone, something she had started doing when she knew he was messing with her. "yes, its good enough for me." She paused, then spoke normally. "Blue suits you."

"I'm so glad you approve."

She snorted, "So where are we going and how long will it take?"

"Few states north to Missouri. I don't have an exact location so we will have to search once we arrive. As for how long, it depends on how soon we find the energon."

"Sounds like fun." She flopped down on her seat-bed and opened her lap top, "when do you want to leave?"

"As soon as possible."

"Should've known." Her fingers tapped across the keyboard, "I'll pack and talk to my dad tomorrow. Then, maybe the next day we can leave."

He grunted in agreement, expanding his field toward her.

"I'll pack for a week, maybe. And work out a route to get us there."

"I know where I'm going," He said, "I don't need you telling me what I need to do."

She started to argue but stopped when his field slid over her frame. She shuddered and cut him a look over her lap top. "Really? Right now?"

He didn't answer her out loud, instead pressing more insistently on the roots of her life force. They were thicker now, spun from hers and strains of his energy. She closed her lap top again and returned to him. He enfolded her in layers upon layers, coaxing her into his spark.

* * *

 **They're getting pretty cozy with each other, huh?**

 **Guys...I'm so sorry for disappearing for a few weeks. Had some family issues. (I won't bore you with details)**

 **Someone asked in their review of Chandler hit Aloha-he didn't. He just roughly manhandled her into his car then took her home.**

 **Hope everyones having a wonderful week. Love you guys.**

 **Aloha, her father and the story belongs to me. Barricade and Transformers does not.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Her dad was ecstatic when he found out Aloha was leaving on a road trip with a 'friend'. He offered her some valuable pieces of packing and traveling wisdom, saying that he had spent some of his best years on the road discovering himself before he met her mother. He didn't even ask who she was going with, only where then made her promise to take her lap top so she could stay in touch with him.

Aloha managed to condense a weeks worth of supplies into two bags. An old canvas duffle bag carried her clothes and personal items, while her trusty backpack protected her lap top, sketch book, snacks, small first aid kit and some other odds and ends that could come in handy. Her dad slid her a wad of bills to cover half the cost of food, gas and souvenirs with her 'road trip buddy'. He also burned her a couple of discs made up of their favorite music and the tunes he had found during his own travels. Aloha seriously doubted Barricade would ever allow her to insert a disc, charger or otherwise anywhere inside his interior, but the thought was nice and she brought head phones to listen to it while she was messing with her computer.

Barricade himself was still pretending like he could care less about her coming or not, but every time they melded life forces she could sense that having her company on the road was something he was looking forward to.

He was slipping in and out of recharge while she tidied her room so she'd have a clean space to return to. She moved about as quietly as she could to keep from disturbing him, actually clearing the floor of any clothes or shoes. Once it was cleaner than normal, she flopped down on her futon with lap top in hand and once again ran a search on Missouri's attractions. Overall, there were too many options to think about. And it didn't help that she had no experience with...anything, really. She didn't know what she wanted to see more, or what would have the most impact on the experience. It was daunting to think about.

Aloha bit her lip, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Where did she even start? Barricade was no help at all. All she knew was that he was going to more than one location, but he had yet to tell her where those places were. When she'd asked for details, she got a stubborn, "Its of no concern to you." Stupid, moody car.

"Barricade."

He rumbled back irritably.

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?"

"Because I don't want you planning any unnecessary stops along the way."

Aloha glared at him. "We're going somewhere new and you don't want to explore?"

"Theres nothing to explore."

"Maybe not for you. But I've never even been in that state."

"How is that relevant? I've never been to your sun before but I'm not going to pack up and go explore it."

"You're in a mood today."

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

Aloha couldn't remember being so insanely confused and angered by one person at the same time before. Though she knew almost every thing that came out of his mouth was a load of crap, and though she had seen into his 'spark' several times now, she still couldn't figure him out. She knew he wanted her nearby, either because she was 'accelerating his repair routines' or just so he wasn't alone anymore. But what on earth could he get out of being so hardheaded and closed off? Did she have to be in the middle of a joining with him every time she wanted an honest response? Did she-wait, why did she even _care?_

Oh, God.

Aloha went still, eyes wide and unseeing.

Was this her genuinely trying to make a relationship work? Was this her becoming attached? He was a grouch, but she had already admitted to herself that she enjoyed his company as much as he did her's, even though he'd never say it. This wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't feel anything for men, alien or otherwise, aside from her father. Hadn't she worked hard to desensitize herself to the concept of relationships? She didn't want the attachments. She didn't want the intimacy. She didn't want the feelings. She didn't want any of it. Hadn't she just argued with Barricade about it only days ago? At the same time, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed, sometimes even craved the transfers they shared.

But where was the line? What did she want? Was everything she'd worked toward until this point even valid anymore?

Barricade was silent, though she could vaguely sense that he was paying closer attention to her. His frame was no longer lax with sleep, but upright and alert. Aloha faced a storm of contradictions within, feeling the strain of it all pull at all her loose threads. The urge to drink slam dunked her, raw and demanding. But she couldn't move-her body was in full lock down.

"Female."

Aloha blinked slowly at him, jumping out of her skin when she felt his field brush carefully across her skin. Invisible calloused fingers moving down her arm, either confirming that she was still with him or seeking permission to join. Aloha was swallowed in an overwhelmingly painful vulnerability. She stood up, dumping the computer on the futon, and left the room.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

He wasn't entirely sure what just happened, though he knew somehow that he was the source.

Meat bags- _all_ organics- were fragile things that broke under minimal pressure. Barricade wasn't sure because he'd never cared enough to learn the signs, but he thought that the female may have just broken. Or at least glitched. Again.

The bond building between them allowed whispers of what she was feeling at her spark to reach him. While trying to recharge, her blatant confusion and irritation had kept him awake. He knew why. She wanted to know more than she needed, and when he said so, her anger had burned like an energon knife across his field, further pulling him away from recharge. Understanding that he wouldn't be able to rest until her ridiculous emotions were addressed and calmed, he had reached for her with his field.

Her body jolted before he even made contact, freezing both of them in place. Him, because he was trying to understand what the pit she was freaking out about now, and her because she had come to some understanding in the ugly mess of her spark. Her energy went from roiling turmoil to a dreadful stillness, like everything in the world had come slamming to a stop.

It wasn't good. He had seen comrades and enemies suffer similar changes, and it left them vulnerable in the field. They weren't in a battle, but he couldn't stop the impulses, born from past experiences and from all of their recent transfers, to be concerned.

He tried calling to her first. No response. So he closed the distance between their fields, making as little contact as he could so not to trigger a flight or fight response. His effort was wasted. She jumped again. Their energies connected at one of her roots, a brief flash of agonizing uncertainty. Then she was gone.

Barricade huffed in irritation. Stupid female. He monitored her through the house, expecting her to go to the backyard. Instead she walked out the front door and went down the road. He tensed further, his spark squeezed in unease. Something had changed.

* * *

 **Aloha**

* * *

Aloha met her dad at the studio on his lunch break. He stepped into the lobby and froze in place when he saw her standing there with her hands in her pockets. She forced a smile, "Hi, dad."

Her dad's face lit up like a sunrise. "Alo! You're here? To visit?"

"Thought we'd have lunch together since you did so much for me this morning."

"Thats kind," He embraced her tightly, "I'm so happy to see you."

She hugged him back just as hard, closing her eyes. For a second, all of her broken pieces stuck back together. He moved back and collected his things, "This is a special occasion! Lets go somewhere."

'Somewhere' turned out to be a convenience store on the corner where they sold delicious but questionable burritos and hot dogs. They both bought one of each and a cold sweet tea to go with them.

They sat together in one of the too-small booths and ate. Her father hummed in appreciation of the food. Aloha felt herself slip back into place, eased by her father's presence. His constant smile, just from her being there, made her wish she'd done this a long time ago. Which made her want to cry.

Aloha sucked it up best she could, trying to focus on her food.

"Are you excited for your trip?" He said cheerfully, "I can't wait to see pictures and hear about it. A good adventure is the best way to find yourself."

Aloha paused, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He was looking out the window, dark eyes soft. "I wish I could go with you," He said quietly.

"We'll go on one when I get back. Just us." Aloha offered, "what if we saved up and took the same one you did? I'd like to see the places you found yourself at."

"That would be amazing." He said, "I haven't hiked or even seen a river in years."

Aloha rubbed at her eyes. She could still feel those stupid tears, and she didn't want them. When she saw he hadn't noticed, she added, "Got any more adventure wisdom for me?"

"Be patient with yourself and your friends, don't be afraid to get dirty, and trust in your ability to take care of yourself. Everything else I've already told you."

She tried blinking them away. Her father noticed this time, "Alo?"

"Yeah? I'm just...scared. I know a lot less about things than I should, and here I am jumping into something I really don't understand." She knew he wouldn't say anything if he realized she wasn't talking about the trip, even if she kinda hoped that he would.

"Thats the journey, Alo. We don't exist to know things. We exist to feel and experience them. Whatever comes, its okay to be afraid of it. You will figure it out. I know you will."

Aloha finally gave him a real smile. More than ever, she despised Chandler for making her father seem less than what he was.

"Whoops," He checked his watch, "I'm going to be late."

Aloha scrambled back out of the booth, stuffing the burrito in her cheek while she gathered what was left of their lunches. Together, they rushed back to the studio.

They kissed each other on the cheek and said goodbye.

"Be brave and have fun," Her father said, "I'll see you when you come back home."

"I will, dad."

Barricade was asleep when she came back home, though he'd inched closer toward her futon sometime while she was gone. Aloha hesitated, looking at him with uncertainty. The crushing realizations she'd come to this last week was enough to break her spirit, everything from finally understanding that she was destroying herself for something that wasn't worth it, to breaking some of her hardest rules without even knowing it, to realizing that she didn't even known who she was anymore, or what she wanted.

I don't want, I do want, I don't know. Aloha exhaled quietly and properly shut down her lap top before storing it and the charger in her backpack. She slid both bags she would take on the trip under her table so she didn't trip over them.

She pulled a fresh cooler from the fridge and sat down at her table to sketch on scrap paper. Aloha practiced figure drawing, each line bringing a character to life. She worked on it late into the evening until she stripped down and laid down on her futon.

Staring up at the ceiling, she made herself remember that she could handle anything that came her way.

* * *

 **Barricade**

* * *

Barricade jolted awake to the abrasive sound of duct tape tearing. He focused his full attention on the source, and grumbled loudly at her for being woken up over something so _stupid._

"Good morning, sunshine." The female greeted, voice lilting. "Did you sleep well?" Another stream of tape was yanked loose from the roll. She slapped one end on the mannequin's severed torso and tightly wound the piece around both pieces to reattach them.

"For frag's sake, female." Barricade said, "why are you wasting time on that thing?"

"Oh, so you can use my energy to put yourself back together, but I'm not allowed to help Darla? Thats selfish, Barricade."

"I'm not the sharing and caring type," He snapped, "would you stop with that infernal-"

The female looked right at him and slowly pulled the biggest piece of tape yet from the roll. Her stood up on his wheels and rolled closer threateningly. "I will turn you into a speed bump."

She cackled, "Then who would be your naughty little transfer slave? You could try to get off on the toaster, but don't you dare touch my coffee pot. You better believe I'll come back from the dead and defend her honor with my life."

Aloha wrapped another length of duct tape around the mannequin before she dropped the roll on the turning table. "You're all set, Darla! Promise me you'll look after our room, alright?"

Barricade glowered at the human. She wasn't even dressed to leave yet and she was up making racket. "Go get ready," He snarled, already thoroughly done with her and her antics for the rest of the day.

Aloha gave him a mock salute before she put on some clothes. She left the garage to fix herself a meal. He noted that the parent meatbag was already gone. Barricade sank back down with a heavy exhale and wondered over the change. She'd been an absolute wreck the day before, and now, _somehow,_ she was more annoying than ever. He didn't know if he was going to survive this trip, a few days or not.

The female returned and gathered her bags. "Can I leave these in your back seat or do you want them in your trunk?"

He opened his passenger door and slid the seat forward in answer. She set both bags inside with care, "This has got to be one of the tiniest back seats I've ever-"

Barricade shoved the seat back and against her body, flinging her into the 'tiny' back seat. She yelped.

" _Hey_!"

"How is it that we haven't even left the building and I already regret this," Barricade muttered.

"You do realize you need to let me out to open the garage, don't you?"

Reluctantly, he let her back out. Aloha shut his door and went to the garage to unlock it and shove it upward. Barricade activated his holoform in the driver's seat and made a show of putting himself into reverse and backing out- right over those pit-forsaken bricks she kept sliding behind his wheels when he was in recharge.

He was going to hurt her. A lot.

Aloha shut the garage and locked it. She walked around to the passenger door. Barricade locked it just before she opened it, then unlocked it when she stepped back and crossed her arms, then locked it again when she reached for him.

She glared at him, a curl of her energy smoothing over his armor in spite of their aggravation with each other. He unlocked the door and opened it, "Stop wasting my time."

The female slid into the seat. He slammed the door shut, locked it, and buckled her in before backing out and peeling down the road.

* * *

 **So late again. Whoops. Gotta work on that.**

 **This chapter was...I don't know. So-so. I hope you guys enjoy it though. Love you guys, hope you're having a wonderful day.**

 **Aloha, her father and the story belongs to me. Barricade and TF does not.**


End file.
